


Lonely When You’re Gone

by AwesomeMango7



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Arguing, Bathroom, Bullying, But Morty doesn’t know that, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Hand Job, He hurts Morty to protect him?, Hurt/Comfort, I’m terrible at summaries, Loneliness, Lots of Crying, Lots of kissing, M/M, Morty Scolds Rick, Morty is really sad, Morty needs a hug, Panic Attack, Party, Please read, Praise Kink (I think?), Rick doesn’t know how to handle being a teenager again, Rick is mean, Sad Rick, Smut, Two-Shot, Weed, angst with fluff, but has dubious undertones, hurt morty, i promise it’s good, it’s consensual, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeMango7/pseuds/AwesomeMango7
Summary: It's been a month since Rick became Tiny Rick, and it looks like he's got no plans of turning back for a while. Meanwhile, Morty has been ignored by Tiny Rick and Summer since the start, and his feelings are hurt. He misses Rick a lot. But that changes when they both smoke weed together in the bathroom during a party.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith, Tiny Rick & Summer Smith, Tiny Rick/Morty Smith
Comments: 17
Kudos: 160





	1. Borrowed Pants

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in my files for a LOOONG time. I wanted it to be longer than two chapters, but I think I forgot what I was planning for the rest of it, so I'm just gonna keep it like this. I hope you guys enjoy it!!

The music was almost so loud that it was deafening. Laser lights were streaming through the house, and bodies that looked like shadow-like blobs were jumping up and down, all crowded around each other and dancing like nobody was watching.

Some people were trying to talk over the music, and others were trying to sing along with the lyrics. Glow stick bracelets and necklace were around their wrists and necks, contrasting greatly against their shadow-covered bodies.

Some of them were drunk, others were high, and even more were both. The whole house was trashed, with red solo cups littering every counter or surface that was accessible, and there were numerous lost or discarded things on the ground, from streamers to used condoms, and whole pieces of pizza that were dropped and then forgotten about.

There was the occasional sound of shattering glass, which should have alarmed _someone,_ but didn’t, and there were couples fucking in various places, from the hallway closet to the bedrooms, and even a pair on the staircase, which Morty tried to avoid with everything he had.

Everything was chaotic, and he could feel the bass of the music reverberating through the floor, shaking the window in the kitchen and living room. It was a surprise to Morty that the police hadn’t shown up to stop everything yet.

The poor teen was dragging a half-full trash bag around the house, frantically trying to clean up the mess as the partying teenagers and aliens danced and threw stuff around. But it was fruitless— he could clean the entire living room over and over, but it was already trashed again within minutes after being picked up.

He didn’t know where Tiny Rick or Summer were— probably both off getting wasted and partying like their lives depended on it. Tiny Rick thought It’d be just _great_ to throw a party with Summer. The two of them were like a dynamic duo; grandfather (if he could even be considered their grandfather at the moment) and granddaughter, Tiny Rick and Summer, and their sci-fi parties and massive popularity.

Lately, it had been _that,_ and _not_ Rick and Morty, and their sci-fi adventures. To which, the brunette tried not to be so butt-hurt over. He just guessed that Rick was more compatible with Summer when he was a teenager anyway, so why should he care?

Morty was virtually a nobody in high school, and Summer was one of the popular girls. And when Morty pictured Rick as a high schooler, he imagined the man being part of the popular crowd. So of course, it made sense that Rick and Summer had gotten so close since he’d made himself into a _teenager_.

The two of them were almost like celebrities, but for no good reason. Just like the Kardashians, except without the money and glamour, and with more confidence, parties, and science.

When Rick became Tiny Rick, he and Summer practically took over the school in one fell swoop. They were now, publicly, best friends, and they always hung out with the most popular people in the school. They went to all the parties and did the most popular and crazy things. Everybody _loved_ them.

And Morty hated it.

Not because he was jealous of their popularity (he found that popular people were usually mean anyway), but because he hadn’t directly spoken to either of them in a _month_. They were always too busy with their popularity, always at parties or doing stupid shit to gain _even more_ popularity. And it’s not like they needed _more_ popularity. They already had three schools in the general area fawning over them.

On the first day, Tiny Rick had sat with Morty at lunch after killing the vampire, and it’d been _fun._ They hung out and talked and messed around, just like they always did. But then _Summer_ had to show up and steal him away, and then Tiny Rick was dragged all the way into her world, and Morty was left sitting alone at lunch every day after that and cleaning up after them.

Morty had tried to hang out with them and stick with the crowd. It was _Rick,_ you know? They were a pair— a _team_. They stuck together. One didn’t come without the other, like some sort of packaged deal. He didn’t care about popularity, but if Tiny Rick did, then he’d just deal with hanging out with a bunch of self-absorbed teenagers.

But when he tried to hang with them, Rick had told him he wasn’t _‘cool’_ enough to hang out with them, and that he was _‘bumming everyone out.’_ He yelled at him and told him to fuck off, and that none of them wanted him around. He continued to yell and yell until Morty finally left them alone.

Morty didn’t even make an effort to hang out with them again after that. It was the same old story that’d happened to him plenty of times before this, so he was prepared for it and knew that it was pointless to try and change their minds.

He, despite everything, actually liked who he was as a person (even though he could be extremely self-conscious at times), and didn’t want to change himself just so he could hang out with the ‘cool’ kids. Even if Rick was a ‘cool kid’ now.

He wasn’t a party person— he didn’t have friends besides Rick, and he was awkward and anxious and unpopular. When he tried to make friends, they very quickly shot him down in the same way Tiny Rick had. They told him he wasn’t cool enough to hang out with them and shooed him away like he was a stray cat begging them for food.

He’d just thought that because it _Rick,_ maybe it would have been different. That maybe, even if Tiny Rick was a popular kid just like all the other popular kids, he’d actually want Morty around. Or at the very least, not _care_ if he was or wasn’t instead of simply not wanting him at all.

But he was wrong. Rick _did_ care if he was there, and he’d prefer that he wasn’t. He didn’t _want_ Morty to be there at all. It hurt the brunette in a way that he couldn’t express. What made it worse was that Rick confirmed that he was probably going to stay as Tiny Rick for a while— a few months tops. So Morty’s lonely misery was only just starting.

Morty didn’t know why Rick liked pretending to be a teenager. Maybe it was because he felt alive now that he could relive his teen years. The brunette wasn’t mad at him for wanting to stay as Tiny Rick for a while so much as he was mad at him for leaving him in the dust.

But he guessed at this point he should be used to it. So he tried not to think so much about it. Right now, he had more pressing problems.

There were so many bodies packed in the house together that he was starting to feel like all of them were sardines. It made him feel claustrophobic, like everyone was sucking up all of the oxygen in the air and he was going to suffocate. It didn’t help that there was a fog machine and people were smoking various things, like cigarettes, vapes, weed, and juuls. The air was filled with the potent smell of it. No matter what part of the house he was in, it continued to linger heavily in the air, subtly choking him up.

He would’ve left the house if he had anywhere else to go. But he didn’t. And if he went outside for some air, he knew it would be pretty hard to get back inside. And this party was probably going to last until morning, so he didn’t want to end up stuck out there in the cold.

He entered the living room for the fifth time to clean it up, his eyes darting all over the floor and to the mess. It was almost as if he _hadn’t_ just cleaned it up two minutes ago. He reached down to pick up a red solo cup, feeling a deep frustration burn within him at the sight.

But just as he was about to grab it, several bodies came crashing into his side, and he was pushed to the ground. The person on top of him was tall and big, crushing him into the carpet and his face was pressed directly into a weird stain that was purple and sticky.

“F-FU— G-GET OFF! _GET OFF!”_ Morty yelled frantically over the music at whoever had fallen on top of him. He struggled to breathe through the crushing weight, squirming and fighting to get out of his trapped state. But he could hardly move at all.

Morty never dealt well when he was forced to make physical contact with strangers. It brought memories rushing to the forefront of his mind— blue hands all over him, pulling at him, bruising him, _hurting_ him—

His chest felt even more crushed as the person leaned to the side, getting closer to Morty’s ear so they could mumble out an apology. Morty’s eyes caught sight of their face. It was one of Rick’s friends— he was alien, with dark green skin, several chins, and two tusks sticking up out of his mouth. As he apologized for knocking him over, his foul breath washed over his face and the teen wanted to _scream_.

He was a big guy, and Morty winced when he finally got off of him. He immediately scrambled to get away, still not over the panic of being so close to someone he didn’t know. He usually wasn’t too panicky in those situations— in fact, he had to deal with stuff like that a lot— but right now, everything was too overwhelming. The world seemed like it was crashing against him around every corner, and he was _suffocating_ underneath the weight of it.

He had to get out of here. He had to get somewhere safe. Somewhere _calm,_ where he could breathe and think and sit down. Somewhere where he could ride out the incoming panic attack he could feel beginning to spark to life inside his chest where nobody would see him.

He completely abandoned the half-full trash bag on the floor, small tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he crawled away. His entire frame was shaking as he navigated his way through his own house (which was now a maze of moving bodies) on his hands and knees. He felt pathetic, like he was a homeless dog crawling through a busy crowd on a sidewalk.

He struggled to avoid being stepped on, and he ended up tripping a few people, but he didn’t care. There was so much chaos everywhere that it was impossible to avoid. Eventually, he found himself face to face with the bathroom door, and with a small gasp of relief, he got up from the floor and grabbed the handle.

He felt like his entire soul shattered inside his body when he turned the nob and found that it was _locked_. He was frozen for a few moments, feeling like icicles were inside of his veins, before he snapped back into action.

He started banging on the bathroom door with his open palm. “H-hello?! Is anyone in there?! I need the bathroom! Open the door!” He said frantically, still twisting harshly at the handle even though it was locked. His sweaty hands were slippery against it. “Please, _please,_ I need the bathroom! Hello?!”

He felt like his nerves were skyrocketing with each second that he didn’t get a response, and the tears were growing bigger and bigger in his eyes. He couldn’t handle the party right now— it was too much for him. Everything was too much.

He felt the door handle move independently from his own twisting, and before he knew it, the door was swinging open. Before he could even process who was inside, he felt a harsh tug on the sleeve of the blue plaid jacket he was wearing and he stumbled forward. He’d tried to dress a little different for the party even though he was very unexcited for it. He thought it’d help him blend in somewhat. Thinking back on it now, he felt stupid for even trying.

He stumbled into the bathroom, completely disoriented with how quickly everything was moving. He flinched when he heard the door slam behind him, and he spun around.

“Morty, w-what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Morty’s eyes winded when he finally processed that it was _Tiny Rick_ that had pulled him inside. The other... teen (could Morty even consider Rick a teen right now?) placed his hands on his shoulders and started looking him over like he was checking for injuries. Rick did this sometimes on adventures, so Morty knew he was just doing it out of habit. Not because he actually cared right now.

He was shocked that he was even face to face with Tiny Rick, honestly. He hadn’t spoken to him directly in over a month and only saw him in passing. And now he was looking over Morty for _injuries,_ like he was worried that he was hurt, or something. But that was odd, because Tiny Rick hadn’t seemed to care about him at all in the last month, so why did he care now?

The brunette felt weird being able to face Rick at eye level without having to look upwards. His grandfather looked... so different, yet somehow the same, as a teenager. He wasn’t as thin, he didn’t have wrinkles around his eyes, and his skin was less pale, but he still had the same eyes and hair (without the bald spot, of course).

He hadn’t had much of a chance to _really_ look at him before, and it was freaking him out now that he could.

Morty jumped away from Tiny Rick’s touch once he finally managed to regain his composure, and he took several steps away from him. “T-Tiny Rick!” He said in mock-surprise, his voice sounding higher in pitch than usual because of his panicked state. He couldn’t keep steady eye contact with him, and he kept looking back and forth between him and the floor. In the past month, he’d made a habit of running out of the room with his tail between his legs whenever Tiny Rick or Summer walked in, but he couldn’t do that now. “I-I-I’m—I’m— everything’s fine! I’m a-alright, I just—umm—I need—needed to use the b—bathroom! Like, real bad!”

Tiny Rick’s brows furrowed in confusion as he studied Morty with an odd look. The brunette had always found his grandpa to be intimidating. But now that he was also considered a ‘popular kid’ at his own school, and thought that Morty was ‘uncool,’ his intimidation seemed to double, and the longer Rick stared at him the more his anxiety rose. “Dude... y-you’re shaking. You’re definitely not a-alright.”

“I-I’m _fine.”_ Morty protested, still unable to keep eye contact for very long. He was slowly processing the fact that Tiny Rick’s eyes were slightly red, and that there was a bong on the floor. And it smelled like weed in the bathroom. _Fucking great. He’s high. Could his luck get any fucking worse?_ “And—and why would you care anyway, Tiny Rick? Y-y-you have a party going on outside, so—so... can you _please_ leave me alone?”

He felt like he was even closer to having a panic attack now. He knew the signs before, like racing thoughts, shaking, hyperventilating, and the feeling of intense panic in a mostly calm situation. If Rick didn’t leave soon, he’d see Morty completely tare apart at the seams. He’d see his most vulnerable side.

He had never let anyone see him while he was mid-panic attack before. He always managed to hide somewhere safe before that happened, and he would _not_ be alright if Rick was still there while he was having one. This was supposed to be the part where he managed to find somewhere to be _alone_ while he lost his composure, but Rick wasn’t _leaving_.

He could already feel it settling in, slowly taking over his mind and sending racing thoughts of low self-worth and pure panic. He felt like the tips of his toes and fingers were starting to tingle unpleasantly, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Tiny Rick looked even more confused now, and he glanced at the door for a moment. “Well, I-I just came in here to get high and chill by myself. The party seems to be getting along fine without me, so I-I’ve got all the time in the world to stick around here. Plus, I was here first. I can stay if I want, Morty. You can’t kick me out just cause _you_ wanna chill in here.”

Morty balled his hands into fists at his side, feeling frustration grow within him once again. This was not what he wanted. Sure, he missed Rick and wanted him to be around, but _not like this._ Tiny Rick was cool and popular, and Morty was a drag that was holding him back. He didn’t want to be anywhere near him while he thought of Morty as nothing more than a pile of dirt. All it would do is make him feel worse than he already did.

At least if Rick was in his older body, he was a pile of dirt that he had to tolerate because they were _family_. Morty didn’t think Rick counted himself as his ‘grandfather’ while in Tiny Rick’s body, so all he was, was just _dirt_. Intolerable, ugly, disgusting _dirt_. “Just get out, Rick! _Please!_ I-I want to be alone!”

“Morty, chill the fuck out—“

“Tiny Rick, you need to listen to me right now!” Morty cut him off, pointing a finger in his direction angrily as he glared. Tears finally spilled over and trailed down his cheeks as he continued to yell. “You win! Congratulations! I’m not okay! I-I-I’m _literally_ panicking, alright?! I-I-I can feel— I’m—I’m having a panic attack!” He gestured to himself, and he took a few steps backward until the back of his legs hit the side of the bathtub. “I-I-I don’t— y-you need to _leave_. I-I don’t want you here while that’s happening, okay? Please _leave_. I-I need to be alone right now. L-let me get my shit together in peace.”

Before Rick could respond, Morty turned around so he could push the shower curtain to the side and he climbed into the bathtub before sliding it closed again. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, his breathing immediately speeding up as he felt his panic attack finally settle all the way in.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and his heart was beating so fast that it physically _hurt_ him. His thoughts were racing and his blood felt like it was ice. Small gasps were being pulled from his throat with each breath as he struggled to breathe.

He always knew the signs before he had a panic attack, but he never could figure out how to prevent them. It was torture to have your own mind and body turn against you like that. And he hated it. He felt so worthless right now. So pathetic and idiotic. He hated that his house was filled with people that he didn’t know, people that didn’t care about him. And he couldn’t just relax like the rest of them. He couldn’t just grab a cup of spiked punch and dance with someone like a normal person.

Instead, he was here, crying in the bathroom because he was overwhelmed by the people and the noise and the smells. Everyone else could handle it, but he couldn’t.

He flinched when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he unfurled himself, his head snapping to the side. Tiny Rick was standing by the edge of the tub, leaning over him.

“Hey...” He said, his voice quiet and soft. Rick had only ever been gentle like this with him a few times before, and Morty was surprised he was doing it now.

Morty shook his head, turning away from him. “G-go away... _please,_ go away...” He cried quietly, feeling as if the words physically pained him. His mind was screaming inside his head, _go away go away go away._

Tiny Rick grunted before he nudged Morty’s shoulder. “Scoot over.” He said, more demanding than asking.

Morty did as he was told automatically, used to following Rick’s instructions when in a nerve-wracking situation. He internally cursed himself as he pressed as close to the other side of the tub as he could. _Why did he listen to him?_

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as Tiny Rick climbed in beside him, his body packed in tightly right next to him. There was no space between them in the bathtub, and their shoulders were pressed up together. He kept himself pressed as closely against the porcelain as possible, not wanting to get too close (even though they were already pressed so closely together).

He felt like he was walking on glass, like Tiny Rick would snap on him at any moment now. That’s how It’d happened last time. He’d sat down with Tiny Rick and Summer at the cool kids’ table, and simply co-existed with them for a while.

He acted how he always did with Rick, but mellowed down (even though he was already pretty mellow as a person) and less inclusive, so he wouldn’t annoy the popular kids. He didn’t even cling to Tiny Rick or distract him from all the other kids, simply joining the conversation with _all_ of them when he thought it would be appropriate. And even then, he tried his best to stay in the background, sometimes even playing on his phone quietly.

But two day’s in, Tiny Rick had snapped at him, and he said all of those things about him not being cool enough to hang out with the popular kids. He hadn’t done anything wrong, except apparently hang out with his own _family_. And now he was stuck pressed against his grandfather(?) in a bathtub with nowhere to go if he snapped again, and a mild panic attack already on his mind.

He didn’t know what he expected Rick to do now, but he still felt confused when he reached around Morty’s shoulders and pulled him into his side. Morty strained against him for a moment, wanting to protest, but eventually he relented and let Tiny Rick guide him into his side.

He kept his eyes closed tightly as he leaned into him, feeling all of the tension in his body begin to go lax. He’d never had someone hold him like this while he was panicking. He’d always thought it’d make him feel worse because sometimes physical contact was what _caused_ him to panic. But, probably because it was Rick, someone he knew and trusted, the physical contact was somehow comforting. To feel the touch of someone he cared about made him feel like he wasn’t alone.

Even if Tiny Rick’s body was artificial, it was still _Rick_ inside of there. It was still _Rick_ who was holding him and comforting him. And he could feel the beat of his heart— he could feel his body heat. He could _smell_ him. He smelled exactly like Rick normally did, but with less alcohol. He smelled more like weed, but underneath that, he still smelled like _Rick_.

“W-what happened out there, Morty?” Tiny Rick asked him, and Morty could feel the vibrations of his words through his chest.

He tensed slightly again as he felt Tiny Rick’s hand start running through his hair. Since when had Rick ever been this affectionate? It felt so right because this is what most people would do, but it felt so _wrong_ because it’s not what _Rick_ would do.

Morty squirmed slightly, lifting his head away from Tiny Rick’s chest and twisting around slightly so he could look at him, face to face. His bottom lip was quivering slightly, and his eyes were already starting to turn a little red from crying. “W-why are you acting like this? Y-y-you’d never do some-something like this for me, and y-you know it.” He poked him in the chest lightly.

Tiny Rick rolled his eyes in exasperation and grabbed Morty’s hand gently so he could lower it. “Morty, for once in your idiotic goddamn life, stop asking stupid questions and just take what you can get.” He said, and then grabbed Morty’s shoulders and pulled him back into his previous position. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Morty sniffled, almost giggling at the thought of Tiny Rick acting like a mother hen. Because that’s pretty much what he was doing right now. But the amusement quickly fell away as he contemplated his question. His chest felt far too tight, like a heavy weight was pressing down on it. He couldn’t tell if that was from panicking, or if it was from that guy falling on him. But at this point, it didn’t really matter.

He might as well just tell Tiny Rick what happened... maybe it would be nice to vent for once.

“I-I was— I was trying to clean the house... but it wasn’t working. I-I was mostly just trying to keep myself busy so I-I didn’t feel—“ He stopped himself from saying ‘lonely.’ “—so I didn’t just sit in a corner doing nothing. I-I kept getting frustrated because no matter how much I cleaned, it—it got messed up again, and then s-some guy fell on top of me, and I-I couldn’t breathe, and everything was just too crowded and I couldn’t— there was cigarette smoke in the air, and the music was hurting my ears...” Morty trailed off after that, not sure what else he could say.

He’d pretty much summed up what lead him to his panic attack. He’d felt lonely because everyone in the house at least had one person to hang out and dance with, but not him. Morty had been alone. Without friends. In a crowded place. And he became claustrophobic. Rick knew Morty could be claustrophobic sometimes. The issue had caused a few of their adventures to end prematurely.

But he doubted Rick knew he felt claustrophobic at parties, too. Parties had never been an issue on their adventures because he had Rick to distract him in situations like that, so he never really worried about it. But this time he didn’t. So, he tried to shove the loneliness back down his own throat and he did the only thing he could think to do to distract himself: Clean like a madman.

It helped, but made it worse at the same time. He was able to keep his emotions down, but it had been slowly building up inside of him. The loneliness, the claustrophobia, the overwhelming lights, sound, and smell that crowded his senses.

And saying it out loud made it sound stupid, but he tried not to think about it.

He shuttered uncomfortably, feeling more tears build up in his eyes. Tiny Rick was still running his hands through his hair (which was odd, Rick had never done that before), and Morty could hear his heart beating through his chest. He focused on the sound and the feel of it, wanting to forget that he was here. He could still hear the music through the door, but it was muffled to the point that it wasn’t overwhelming.

“D-Do you wanna smoke?” Rick asked him quietly. “It could help with the anxiety.”

Morty frowned into Tiny Rick’s chest. He didn’t understand why he was acting like this, and it hurt him. He would never do something like this in front of people— he’d never share _weed_ with a stupid loser like him out in front of everyone. He knew because he’d asked people to let him smoke at previous (and less overwhelming) parties and they didn’t want to waste their precious weed on some dumbass loser (though, he had convinced a few less-popular people). “A-are you embarrassed o-of being seen with me in public? I-is that what this is?” He mumbled into Tiny Rick’s chest.

He was making a bad habit of avoiding Rick’s questions by asking his own.

He felt Tiny Rick tense, and his hand stilled in his hair. “What?”

Morty pulled away from Rick again, wiping away his tears. He looked at him, sniffling. “D-don’t pretend like you didn’t say the things y-you said to me in front of _everyone_. Y-you don’t want to hang out with me because y-you’re a stupid teenager now, and I’m not cool enough, so you can’t be seen with me. I-I _apparently_ make you look bad.”

Rick didn’t say anything, but Morty could see a frown steadily growing on his face with each word that came out of his mouth. Morty frowned back at him.

“T-this is the first time I’ve talked to you directly since y-y-you said all that shit in front of everyone, and it’s the first time y-you’ve been _nice_ since then, too. And we’re alone, so y-you can be nice to me all you want because nobody’s gonna see it and judge you for it.” Morty sighed heavily, feeling like that weight on his chest was growing heavier by the minute. Maybe it had actually been a bad idea for him to tell Rick how he felt. “A-and you know what? I-I don’t want to be—to stick around for it. I-I don’t need the back and forth. It stresses me out too much. And I-I don’t need to spend my time with someone w-who doesn’t appreciate me as a person. Either pick a side, or just stop talking to me altogether, Tiny Rick.”

Maybe he could make his way to the upstairs bathroom to hide. He’d have to walk through the crowd, but at least he could blame his puffy red eyes on weed, even though he hadn’t had any. Being so close to Rick while he was high had probably spread the smell, so it was a convincing argument if anyone asked. He could make it.

It was better than staying with Tiny Rick...

He reached across Tiny Rick and grabbed the edge of the tub. He started to get up.

“Wait, wait, _wait,”_ Tiny Rick said, grabbing his wrist to stop him. “Morty...”

Morty scowled at him, frustrated that he wouldn’t let him leave. _“What.”_

“Please stay,” Rick said, voice tinged with a little bit of desperation. “Don’t leave.”

Morty sighed through his nose and rolled his eyes. He tried to stand again, but this time, Tiny Rick sat up and grabbed him around the middle and pulled him back down into the tub.

Morty yelped, looking down at Tiny Rick in shock as the other teen wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his side. “R-R— Tiny Rick! What are you doing?! Let go!” He whisper-yelled, placing his hands on top of Tiny Rick’s head and pushing at him slightly in an attempt to get him to let go. He didn’t put much force into it because he didn’t want to hurt him, but it wasn’t enough to get him to let go.

Tiny Rick sank further down into the bathtub, pulling Morty down with him, and pretty soon he’d sunk all the way down so that he was flat on his back and Morty was somewhat on top of him with one knee awkwardly between Rick’s legs.

Morty frowned down at him, feeling heat rise to his cheeks because of the awkward position. “Why are you d-doing this?” He asked as Tiny Rick finally let go of him. Morty was still on top of him, but he was afraid to move in fear that Tiny Rick would just grab him again.

“Don’t _leave.”_ Tiny Rick said again, this time more sternly. He had an odd expression on his face that Morty couldn’t read. He almost looked angry, but... whatever he was seeing on Rick’s face definitely wasn’t anger.

Morty sighed heavily again through his nose. He slowly let himself sink down onto Rick, resting his head on his firm chest and adjusting himself to be comfortable. “I-I hate you...” He said, but his voice was muffled through Tiny Rick’s shirt. “Y-you’re just— I just hate you so much.”

He didn’t mean it, but he still felt like saying it. He didn’t know what else to say to express his frustration.

Tiny Rick snorted, patting Morty’s back comfortingly. “Yeah, okay, Morty. Sure.” He said, knowing that Morty didn’t actually mean it. Which was good, because Morty didn’t feel like apologizing right now.

Morty sighed, lifting his head and pressing his ear to Tiny Rick’s chest so he could breathe easier. His hands bunched up some of the fabric of his blue button-up shirt. “D-does the smoking offer still stand?” He asked meekly.

“Only if you stay.” Tiny Rick shrugged.

Morty thought about it for a moment. He’d smoked before... just never in front of Rick. He’d only gotten slightly high, so maybe he could just take a couple of hits and be fine. And it probably would help with his anxiety. Weed tended to make him spacey. He couldn’t focus on anything, and it was just really hard to organize his thoughts so he usually just gave up on it and let himself space off into oblivion.

“Okay...” He agreed.

Tiny Rick lifted his head off of the porcelain, looking at Morty with mild surprise. “Wait, really? You’ll smoke? And stay?”

He sounded entirely too excited.

Morty grunted as he pushed himself up, using his arms to keep himself up off of Tiny Rick as he spoke. He tried to ignore the fact that he was now straddling him, but it was Rick’s fault that they were even in this position to begin with, so it helped with the embarrassment. Just a little bit.

“Uh... I-I mean... are you even giving me a choice about leaving? Y-you’re not exactly _letting_ me.” Morty let out an awkward chuckle as he felt heat start rising to his face again. _He really needed to get out of this position._ “I-If I’m stuck here, might as well get high.”

Tiny Rick chuckled and sat up, reaching over the side of the tub to grab the bong. He and Morty both sat up completely, sitting opposite of each other in the tub. Morty immediately felt relieved.

Tiny Rick pulled a lighter out of his back pocket. “Okay, so what you’re going to have to do is—“

Morty grabbed the bong and the lighter and took it from Tiny Rick’s hands with a scoff. “I-I know how to use a bong, Tiny Rick...” He said in annoyance. Maybe that'll teach him not to be a condescending jerk when he’s back in his older body.

Tiny Rick gave him a weird look. “Since when, you little shit?”

Morty rolled his eyes as he held the lighter to the bowl and lit it, watching as milky white smoke filled it for a moment before he put his mouth to it and inhaled. He got about half of the smoke before he pulled back, coughing violently into his arm. The smoke poured out of his mouth as he coughed.

He turned to Tiny Rick, blinking rapidly as his eyes watered. “I-I—“ He cut himself off with another cough into his arm. “I-I don’t tell you _everything,_ Rick.” He rolled his eyes.

Tiny Rick looked at him incredulously as he took the bong and lighter away from him. Morty continued to cough lightly into his arm, failing to completely suppress it. “For someone that has apparently ‘smoked’ before, y-you sure as hell cough like a fuckin’ baby. Y-y-you can’t even handle a _little_ bit of smoke.” He muttered, lighting the bowl and inhaling all of the smoke before slowly letting it all out.

Morty cleared his throat and shook his head. “I-I’ve smoked twice...” He admitted quietly. “Once... at a party that Summer made me go to. And another time when we were at one of _your_ parties in space. So _excuse me_ if I can’t handle a little bit of smoke. I-I’m nowhere _near_ as experienced as you.”

Tiny Rick shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You s-smoked under _my_ supervision? And I didn’t notice?”

Morty chuckled at that, taking the bong and lighter back. “I-I wouldn’t call y-y-you leaving me in the back of a strip club while you fucked some alien chick ‘supervising’ me.” He muttered, lighting the bowl and inhaling once again.

This time, he managed to get all of the smoke, but as soon as he pulled back, Morty wasn’t sure for a moment if he was going to vomit or faint. He exhaled quickly, and as soon as his lungs were empty of smoke he began coughing again. He felt like somebody had stuffed cotton into his lungs, and it was scratchy and ticklish and burning all at the same time. He handed Rick the bong again as he doubled over and coughed into his arm, small tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

Tiny Rick set the bong on the side of the tub and reached forward, patting Morty on the back. “How much did you have those times?”

Morty sat back up, swallowing heavily as he tried to suppress another cough. “Uh... at Summer’s party, I-I had like... three? f-four hits? A-and I got pretty, uh, pretty high just from that... I-I don’t have a tolerance.” He waved him off.

“W-What about the party in space?” Tiny Rick furrowed his brow, continuing to interrogate the brunette.

Morty shook his head. “J-just one. I-I was paranoid t-that I’d get too high and you’d catch me.”

Tiny Rick laughed. “Catch you? I-If I caught you, I would have patted you on the back and said congratulations! N-never thought you actually had the fuckin’ balls to do something like that.”

Morty rolled his eyes. “I-I didn’t want you to catch me either way...”

Tiny Rick looked scandalized, leaning away from Morty and placing a hand over his heart like he’d just personally attacked him.

Morty sighed and rolled his eyes again, this time with more exaggeration— but there was a shy smile on his face that he couldn’t get rid of. His shoulders slumped sheepishly as he looked at Tiny Rick, and he forced his shy smile into a small pout. “I-I... I was embarrassed... for-for actually doing it.” He said, his voice small.

He was still fourteen when he’d done that and had only recently started going on adventures with Rick. At the time, he was still in that child-like mindset where he thought that drugs were the literal worst thing ever— don’t get him wrong, he still thought drugs were pretty bad, but weed? It didn’t do _nearly_ as much harm as some of the other drugs out there. And Morty was starting to become convinced that _alcohol_ had a much worse effect on people than weed did anyway.

Smoking at Summer’s friend’s party had been much more recent. Probably a little over three months ago. Rick hadn’t bothered him that night, and by morning, he was sober again and decided not to mention it. It honestly hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal— sure, Summer had patted him on the back when she spotted him smoking, but he didn’t think telling Rick would really get a reaction out of the man. Drugs and alcohol were like second nature to him, so he didn’t think he’d care.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Tiny Rick didn’t say anything for a moment, and Morty watched as his adam's apple bobbed like he was swallowing harder than necessary. He looked Morty up and down before he reached up, placing his hand on Morty’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. But the action almost made it seem like Rick was trying to reassure himself of something, and not Morty.

“Y-you shouldn’t be embarrassed. It would have been fuckin’ hilarious and fun to be there when you smoked for the first time. I just thought you wouldn’t have wanted to. Y’know, since you’re such a pussy and all that.” Tiny Rick chuckled.

“Hey! I’m not a pussy! I-I proved that by making the choice to smoke, even when y-you weren’t around for me to try and ‘impress’.” He made quotation marks with his hands when he said ‘impress.’ But he felt his face began to heat up again, not used to the usual banter he and Rick shared. And Rick trying to comfort him through physical contact made him feel weird and embarrassed because Rick didn’t really do that. He felt hyper-aware of the hand that was placed on his shoulder, and Tiny Rick chuckled at him again in amusement.

Morty’s mind suddenly started to wandered slightly and he realized his body was starting to buzz from the weed. He looked Rick up and down with his eyes, taking in his appearance. His legs were crossed and he was wearing black dress pants and a blue button-up.

Morty furrowed his brows as he stared down at the pants Tiny Rick was wearing. They looked so oddly familiar. He tilted his head to the side in question for a moment before it suddenly hit him.

“Dude... are those my pants?” He asked, eyes widening. It was weird to see that _Rick_ was wearing _his_ pants. He was pretty much the same size of him now that they were both the same age, so they could definitely fit him (though, Tiny Rick was still slightly taller than him). But still, _Rick was wearing his fucking pants._

Tiny Rick looked down at his pants and then back up at Morty before he pulled his hand away from Morty’s shoulder like he’d been burned. Morty could see red tint his cheeks. “W-well, yeah. Where else was I gonna get pants for the occasion?”

Morty couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “T-the store, Rick. Y-you could have gone to the _store.”_

“I d-don’t have time to go to the _store,_ Morty, I’m a busy man!” Tiny Rick scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Y-you’re not a _man,_ Tiny Rick.” Morty laughed, finding everything about this situation hilarious. “You’re a _kid_. A-a-a sixteen-year-old _kid_. And all you have to keep up with right now is your popularity. You don’t even really have to worry about your future because y-you’ve already built it, and can go back to it at any time. And since you’re practically _Mr. Popular,_ I-I’m sure y-you could have called up some of your friends and went to the mall or something. There are _plenty_ of people that would’ve loved to take you. But instead, you snuck into my room and stole my only pair of dress pants? Are you kidding me?”

He couldn’t stop laughing at how stupid it was. He could just picture it in his head— Tiny Rick sneaking into his room and digging around in his clothing drawers until he found them. He couldn’t believe Tiny Rick had pulled it off without him knowing. He’d practically been spending all of his free time in his room since Tiny Rick and Summer had been so busy with parties and stuff. He must’ve done it when Morty was showering or something.

Rick’s face was growing redder by the second. “Shut the fuck up, Morty! Nobody _asked_ you to expose me!” He grumbled as he snatched the bong from the brunette, eyeing Morty with mock-anger as he took another deep hit.

Morty snickered, reaching for the bong as Rick exhaled a cloud of smoke. “W-whatever you say, Tiny Rick.” He rolled his eyes playfully.

Tiny Rick frowned at Morty as he took the bong from his hands. “Y-you know you don’t have to call me that, right?”

Morty inhaled the smoke in the bong, and pulled back, coughing out several puffs of smoke before turning to his grandpa (or was he just his friend now?). “W-What? Call you what?” He coughed again, feeling once again like his lungs were filled with cotton. He licked at his dry, cracked lips uncomfortably, wishing that he had something to drink right about now. Maybe it would help his burning throat.

“T-the nickname is f-for... for everyone else.” Tiny Rick sighed, taking the bong from him almost defensively.

Morty cleared his throat, the pants fading into the background of his mind as their conversation topic took another turn. He was starting to feel lightheaded and the world felt like it was spinning around him. “So, what, am I not cool enough for that, either? Are only the ‘cool’ kids a-allowed to call you Tiny Rick?”

Morty was only half-joking.

Tiny Rick’s face grew red again and he took a hit from the bong. “Morty, that’s not what I meant.” He said, smoke trailing out of his mouth with each word.

Morty scoffed and rolled his eyes playfully again. He didn’t want to play Tiny Rick’s game right now. He was starting to really feel the weed settle in, and pretty soon he wouldn’t be able to keep up with this conversation. He planned to get even higher than the last two times.

Tiny Rick frowned at him. “I-I just want you to call me Rick. _Tiny_ Rick is for the people that don’t k-know me and will forget about me once I-I-I’m back to normal. I-I’m living a different life, Morty. But y-you know me, Morty. You know me, whether I’m old or young. Think of it this way: I’m allowing you to call me on a first-name basis, or something... like in those stupid anime shows you like, or whatever...” He mumbled the last part, trailing off.

The brunette sighed heavily, turning away from Tiny Rick. “T-that just sounds like an excuse, Rick.”

Tiny Rick couldn’t stand him sitting at lunch with him and the other popular kids, so why would he be alright with Morty calling him by his affectionately given nickname? Morty should have seen this coming at some point.

It didn’t make sense. It was like Tiny Rick had two faces and he was trying to perform both roles at the same time. He was being kind to him, sharing his weed with Morty, and talking to him. But he also seemed like he was trying to shake Morty’s presence off at the same time. Which still didn’t make sense because he wouldn’t _let_ him leave. Morty was starting to get confused.

The blue-haired teen frowned deeply at Morty. “You know the real me. W-why would I want you to call me by my fake name?”

Morty glared at him. “Because you _treat_ me like the _‘fake you’_ would. Y-you don’t treat me like _Rick_ does. Y-you treat me l-like all the other kids at school do. Like unpopular garbage! You’ve been treating me like that since you became Tiny Rick...” He grumbled, glaring at the other teen(-ish) for a moment before turning away. “But seriously, Tiny Rick, I-I don’t want to talk about this right now. I-I’m... I just wanna get high, and if—if you wanna leave, y-you can leave. But I’m staying here until morning.”

Morty’s tone was final, and both of them knew that there was nothing Rick could say now to sway him. The brunette let his head fall back against the wall and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Tiny Rick scoffed as he watched Morty, and he shoved the bong into his chest for him to take. The two of them didn’t say anything for a while. They simply passed the bong back and forth, trying to figure out what to say.

Morty was the one that was struggling the most with it. He couldn’t keep a steady string of thoughts inside his head. It’s like he kept slipping off of the train of thought and falling down into an endless void. Every time he moved, the world felt like it was stuttering or lagging behind. His heart felt like it was pounding inside his chest, and the world was spinning. He felt like he kept fazing in and out of a dream, like the weed pulled him out of reality for a moment before he suddenly remembered that he was awake.

His muscles were relaxed, and the tense silence between them slowly started to feel more and more comfortable. He consistently coughed after each hit, still not quite able to hold them back. His throat kind of hurt, but he didn’t care. He knew he’d be fine, and every time he started to feel a little panicky, he told himself that there was nothing to worry about inside his head until he was fine again.

He remembered someone once telling him that when you were high (on weed or any kind of drug), that the best thing to do was to just ride out the waves instead of fighting it. So that’s what he tried to do, and it was pretty easy. Things felt nice, and he didn’t have to think too hard about anything in particular.

He started spacing off for a moment, and then he felt a poke on his shoulder that he almost wasn’t able to register. He looked to the side to see Tiny Rick offering him the bong. He squinted at it for a moment before shaking his head. He was so fucking high that he didn’t think he’d even be able to handle another hit. He was afraid that if he tried to stand or do anything, he’d fall right over.

“I-I-I’m— ‘s all good— dude, i-I’m so fuckin’ high.” Morty giggled. He threw a hand over his mouth afterward, completely embarrassed by his own laugh. It sounded so high pitched and girly, and it _definitely_ wasn’t normal. He lifted his hand. “Oh my god!” He whisper-shouted, looking at Tiny Rick with wide eyes. “Does my laugh always sound like that?”

Tiny Rick looked at Morty in confusion for a moment before his lips spread into a big smile and he was giggling too. The brunette felt embarrassment take over as he laughed with him, the two of them completely losing their shits over basically nothing. It was a while before either of them could calm down enough to speak.

“I’m guessing, um, y-you’ve never been this high before?” Tiny Rick asked, placing a hand on Morty’s shoulder again. It was a stupid question because they both knew Morty had never been this high before, but the question somehow served to answer a different unspoken question.

Morty giggled, his hand still placed over his mouth. And this time, it didn’t seem all that weird for Tiny Rick’s hand to be on his shoulder. “Nope!”

Tiny Rick giggled some more, his smile failing to fall from his face as he looked at Morty. “I-so— I haven’t been this high in a _looong_ time, Mort. I-I’ve missed this feeling.”

Morty felt his heart flutter at the nickname. Rick only shortened his name like that when he was proud of him, or feeling especially affectionate. “Y-you get high all the time, R— Tiny Rick.” He said bashfully, waving the other teen(?) off.

Tiny Rick’s eyes were wide. “Yep, b-but... old me... older me haaaaaasss a tolerance to this shit, y’know? Earth weed doesn’t really affect older me. But it— this body has no f-fuckin’ tolerance, dude.” He clicked his tongue. “None at all.” He squinted at the bong for a moment, like he was contemplating taking another hit before deciding against it and leaning over the side of the tub to place it on the floor.

Morty snorted. _“Older you.”_ He repeated with amusement in his tone. It took a lot of effort just for him to get a couple of words out. He really had to focus on it.

Tiny Rick rose a brow. “What’s so funny?”

Morty’s head lolled to the side so he could face Rick, and the whole world stuttered like he’d just gotten off of a spinning t-cup ride. “I-I miss you... o-old-older you, I mean. I miss the older you.” He shrugged, sighing heavily. “But you’re happy... I think? So, y-you go on and keep being T-Tiny Rick. You be whoever you wanna be, Rick. You be you.” He leaned forward and playfully poked Rick in the chest before giggling to himself.

Tiny Rick shifted a little bit, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he placed a hand over his chest where Morty had poked him. “Y-you miss me? L-like... y-you mean you miss _me_ me? Older Rick? R-really?”

He sounded _so_ hopeful.

Morty giggled again. Of course, he missed Rick. How could he not? “Y-you’re funny, Tiny Rick. So funny. Y-you’re my best friend, of course, I miss you.” He turned to Tiny Rick, but his giggling slowly faded when he realized the other teen wasn’t amused like he was. He looked focused, like he was deeply lost in thought. Morty frowned, feeling worried for his grandpa as he tilted his head worryingly. “What’s—what’s wrong, Tiny Rick?”

“Morty.” Tiny Rick sat up on his knees and faced towards Morty, leaning over him slightly. He braced his hand on part of the tub behind the brunette and Morty flinched slightly, not sure what to expect. “I-I gotta— I gotta try something. Okay? Y-you gotta just go with it, uh, just... please? C-can you go with it? Please?"

He still sounded so painfully hopeful. Like Morty’s response would decide the rest of his future. And maybe it would.

Morty’s eyes widened slightly as he stared up at Rick. He was looking down at him, his eyes half-lidded and red. He was so close that he could practically feel his body heat, even though they weren’t even touching. He looked determined, and Morty would be lying if he said Tiny Rick acting like this didn’t affect him in weird ways.

“Uh, I mean...” Morty paused, thinking about Tiny Rick’s odd request. What could it mean? What did Tiny Rick want to ‘try’? Then Morty shrugged. What could possibly go wrong? This was Rick he was talking about. He wouldn’t do anything to really hurt him. At least, not permanently. “Uhhh, sure, I guess?” He swallowed nervously.

“Good,” Rick said.

Morty was about to ask what he was going to do, but before he could, Tiny Rick’s face was suddenly very close to his and he felt his lips press against his own. He squeaked in surprise, his whole body tensing at the unexpected turn of events. _What the fuck was happening?!_ This was like the biggest story plot-twist he’d ever seen, but it was _real!_ And Morty couldn’t even _fathom_ why or how this started happening! _What did Tiny Rick think he was fucking doing?!_

But the shock quickly dissipated— far faster than it would have if he’d been sober. He melted into the kiss, finding that the feeling was actually quite pleasant. Okay, actually it felt _really_ good. Like, _mind-numbingly_ good. He kissed Tiny Rick back feverishly, desperate for more physical contact as they leaned into each other. He felt Tiny Rick’s hands slowly start to slip under his shirt, pushing his hands up his bare stomach. It felt so good. He wanted the hands to keep going.

He didn’t care that it was his grandpa who was kissing him— the fact that he was even related to him at all was so many more miles away from his mind than it probably should have been at this moment. But it felt _good,_ and that’s all that he could think about. It felt _so fucking good._ Tiny Rick’s lips were soft, and his hands were warm, and his mind was spinning in the most pleasant way. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, and a jolt of arousal and need shot through him like lightning. There was nothing he wanted more right now than to keep doing whatever this was.

Rick pulled back and quickly pushed Morty’s jacket off his shoulders, and then he pulled his yellow t-shirt off over his head before tossing them over the side of the tub. As Morty leaned back against the porcelain, he shivered at how cold it was against his bare skin, and goosebumps rose along his arms.

Tiny Rick licked his lips and stared down at Morty’s bare chest before diving back down to capture his lips with his own once again. Morty moaned into the kiss, and Tiny Rick’s tongue quickly found its way inside. Morty pressed his own tongue back against his shyly, letting the other explore his mouth.

His heart was beating wildly in his ears, and the world felt like it was moving through molasses. Tiny Rick slowly started to trail his kissing down to his jawline and down his neck, and Morty’s hands quickly darted up to that stupid blue button-up that Rick was wearing. His hands fumbled from the nerves— or was it because he was high? He didn’t know or care either way, but he was frustrated that he couldn’t get the buttons undone faster.

Rick paused his trail of kisses for a moment to help him, quickly unbuttoning the rest before discarding the article of clothing over the side of the tub. Morty’s hands hesitantly ran up Rick’s stomach and chest— he felt so smooth and warm against his hands, and he wrapped his arms around Tiny Rick’s neck so he could pull him down into another kiss. Their bare chests pressed flush together, and the warmth contrasted greatly from the cold of the porcelain.

Morty squeaked into Rick’s mouth when he felt his hand press down against his crotch, and when he did it again, he moaned, arching his back slightly as he sought for more pressure. _Was he really that hard already?_ He hadn’t even noticed. He was so fucking high, and all he could focus on was Tiny Rick— he’d been so zoned in on him that he hadn’t even noticed how painfully tight his pants had become. But now that Tiny Rick had silently pointed it out, he couldn’t ignore it.

He felt Tiny Rick grin into the kiss. “T-this okay?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper as he hesitated to touch Morty any more. “Wanna keep going?”

The words temporarily pulled Morty back down to Earth, and he was suddenly struck with the realization that he was literally making out with his grandpa. In a bathtub. _And they were slowly getting into something deeper._ And this wasn’t okay, right? It shouldn’t be happening. It was _so wrong._ This was _Rick,_ his grandpa— his _mother’s father._ None of it was right.

But then his eyes focused on Tiny Rick again, and he looked at his expression— patient, concerned, _lustful_. And Tiny Rick was _his_ _age_. He was sixteen years old, and while he was in this body, they weren’t _technically_ related. This was Rick, but it also wasn’t. And he ‘wasn’t’ Rick enough for Morty’s inebriated brain to rationalize that this was _fine_.

And plus, it’s not like he _hadn’t_ thought about doing this kind of thing with Rick before. He’d sorta just trapped those thoughts in a box in the back of his head, trying to pretend they didn’t exist, simply because he believed that something like this wasn’t obtainable. But now... now it _was_ obtainable. And he was high, and he was sad, and he missed Rick... so this whole thing seemed like such a great idea.

So after a moment of thought, he nodded. He was alright with this. “Yeah, k-keep— keep going T— uh, Rick. Yes. _Yes.”_

Tiny Rick grinned again, and he backed up a little bit so he could quickly pull Morty’s shoes and socks off. He then went back up, unbuttoning Morty’s blue jeans and yanking them down to his knees. Heat rose to Morty’s face when he saw the tent in his own boxers, and he reflexively went to cover himself, but Tiny Rick grabbed his hands to stop him. Their eyes met, and they both froze for a moment.

“I-I wanna see you, Morty.” Tiny Rick said, but he wasn’t demanding. His voice sounded hesitant like he was asking if he could. Morty flushed brighter if that was even possible, and he slowly nodded.

They stared silently at each other for a moment longer before Tiny Rick let his hands go and pulled his boxers down with his jeans. He gasped when his erection sprang free, a little bit of pre already leaking from the tip.

“You’re so beautiful, Morty.” Tiny Rick said as he fumbled to get his pants and boxers off of his legs completely, and Morty had to sit up to help him. They were discarded over the side of the tub with everything else.

Morty watched as Rick removed his own pants (which he remembered were actually his, hilariously enough), and immediately after, he positioned himself between Morty’s legs and kiss him again. It was full of teeth and passion, and Morty loved every second of it.

He grabbed at Tiny Rick’s hair, pulling at it slightly as he wrapped his legs around Rick’s hips. Rick groaned and reached down between their bodies to grab Morty’s weeping erection. The brunette gasped at the feeling, arching his back as he began to move his hand up and down. He’d never been touched by another person like this, and it felt _fucking wonderful._

Tiny Rick’s hands were soft, which confused him. He would’ve expected them to be rough because of all of the callouses that the man had from years and years of tinkering and adventures. But then he remembered that he was in a different body. Either way, it felt _great_. But he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if Rick were back in his own body— how much of a contrast it would be, how much more like _Rick_ it would be. Just thinking about it was making him wish that Rick was in his actual body again.

“R-Rick... haa... oh- _ah_ geez.” Was all Morty could manage, his breath hitching slightly. He slowly trailed his hands over the other teen’s chest and down his stomach to grab Rick’s erection, hoping not only that he was doing this correctly, but that he wouldn’t be the only one doing all the work. Hesitantly, he started dragging his hand up and down, repeating the same actions that Tiny Rick was doing to him. He tried to do exactly what he knew felt good on himself because that was about all the experience that he had with this kind of thing.

“Morty... _fuck,”_ Tiny Rick groaned as Morty moved his hand up and down his girth, his brows furrowing with his pleasure.

“Jesus, y-y-you’re big, R-Rick...” Morty murmured. He really was big— and the brunette wasn’t sure if this was how big Rick’s dick actually was when he was this age, or if he’d just made it this way when he’d created this body. All in all, Morty was pretty small compared to Rick. And while that was embarrassing on some level, he really was too high to care right now.

“Oh, fuck.” Tiny Rick breathed, kissing at Morty’s neck and sucking hard on his soft skin. His teeth barely grazed him, pulling a whine from the brunette. “Y-you’re doin’ so good, babe. So good.”

“Riiick.” Morty moaned, feeling waves of pleasure wash through him with each stroke. He was already nearing the edge, and everything was starting to become too intense. He was almost overwhelmed by the pleasure. How had he already gotten so close already? _“Fuck,”_ His breath hitched. “R-Rick, you gotta— _ahh_ — gotta— _aha_ — slow down. I-I’m gonna come—fuck!”

Tiny Rick reached down between their bodies and grabbed both of their erections in one hand, pressing them closer together, pumping both of their cocks faster. “Come for me, Morty. I want to see you come in my hand.” He whispered in his ear, his voice dropping down an octave— he sounded more like ‘older’ Rick when he said it, and the thought of Rick back in his normal body, still doing this to him, made Morty’s cock twitch pleasantly.

Morty moaned as their erections slid against each other in Rick’s hand, feeling the pleasure quickly build up. Pre was leaking steadily from both of their cocks, aiding in slicking everything up and making it easier for Tiny Rick to slide his hands up and down fluidly.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” He murmured as he stared down at Tiny Rick’s hand. The sight was mesmerizing.

He groaned and jerked his hips up as he suddenly came harder than he’d ever come before. “RI _CK!”_ He arched his back, semen shooting up and staining their stomachs as waves of pleasure wracked through his body.

The sight quickly took Tiny Rick over the edge as well, and he groaned, his whole body tensing for a moment as he reached his own completion. “Oh, _FUCK!_ MORTY!” He groaned before collapsing on top of the brunette heavily.

The two of them both panted for a moment, pressed closely together in the tub as the afterglow settled in. Tiny Rick lowered his head into the crook of Morty’s neck as he rested on top of him, and the brunette felt his heart flutter in his chest.

“R-Rick?” Morty hesitantly spoke, feeling like his brain was spinning in circles inside his skull. That had been the hardest he’d ever come before, and his mind was still swirling with pleasure. But he felt exhausted now, like somehow it had taken a lot out of him. His eyes were starting to grow a little heavy, and he just wanted to close them and sleep now. A fond smile came to his face as he looked at the top of Tiny Rick’s head.

“Hmm?” Tiny Rick hummed in question.

“What, um... what just happened?” Morty giggled the question, still not quite able to process it. He couldn’t think like this— not when he kept spacing off like some vegetable. His heart was pounding so fast inside his chest— he couldn’t help but wonder if Rick could feel it, too.

Tiny Rick snorted and lifted his head so he could grin down at Morty cockily. “Well, I think I-I just jerked you off in a bathtub, Morty. I thought what we did was pretty obvious.”

Morty flushed red in embarrassment and giggled again, smiling at Tiny Rick like an idiot. “Well yeah, o-obviously. I-it was so great Tiny Rick. I’ve never— that was the hardest I’ve ever come, haha.” He just couldn’t stop _smiling_.

Tiny Rick ran a hand through Morty’s hair, twirling a strand around his finger as he smiled fondly down at the brunette. “Y-you did so well, Morty. So good.”

Morty’s heart fluttered again, too high to really realize that Tiny Rick had dodged his question completely. He was easily distracted by Tiny Rick’s praise— it was something that he mostly unconsciously pined for when it came to Rick. Nobody ever really praised him for anything, and he knew that’s why his heart fluttered every time Rick said he did a good job with something.

He knew it was probably bad, but he couldn’t help himself when he was already so deprived of praise. He had gotten better at not letting Rick’s praise control him, though. But somehow, in this context it seemed different. Rick was looking down at him so fondly that he couldn’t help but feel his heart soar. “R-really? Y-you-you think so?”

“Yeah. You were so good.” Tiny Rick said, kissing Morty’s lips lightly for a moment before pulling back so he could gaze down at him fondly again.

“I-I didn’t do much, though.” Morty looked off to the side in embarrassment. He really hadn’t. Tiny Rick did most of the work. He’d wanted to do more, but he hadn’t really been able to think of anything he could have done besides return the favor. But even then, Tiny Rick took over in the end there. “I-I couldn’t— it was hard to think.”

“Y-you were so good, babe.” Tiny Rick assured once again. “Y-you did perfectly. You were so fucking _hot.”_

Morty felt content with Rick’s reassurance and he giggled again. He was never this giggly when he was sober, but right now he couldn’t help but be this way. Everything just seemed so mellow and chill and _wonderful_. He had no worries at all.

But then, as he stared up at Tiny Rick, he thought about how tomorrow everything would go back to normal.

Tiny Rick would eventually leave this bathroom, and he was going to find Summer, and they were going to start ignoring Morty once again. Maybe Tiny Rick would even pretend that this whole thing never even happened. And just thinking about Rick forgetting this night filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread. It made him feel used and empty.

It was going to go back to exactly how it was before, with Tiny Rick and Summer staring at Morty with annoyance and disgust when he tried to communicate with them. And then they’d spit fire at him until he left, and Morty would once again sit alone at the corner table in the cafeteria. He’d have to see Tiny Rick prance around with a big smile on his face as he joked around with his high school friends.

And it hurt his heart in ways that he couldn’t explain. He missed his time with Rick so, _so_ much, but Rick seemed happy as Tiny Rick. He seemed happy with telling Morty off and hurting his feelings like some sort of bully. And even though it hurt, he’d let it happen again. And again. _And again and again._ All because it made Rick happy to be Tiny Rick. It was hard to make Rick happy at all, and that’s why he’d let it happen.

But even if he knew he’d let Tiny Rick hurt him again without protest, his smile slowly slipped away from his face, and tears quickly filled up his eyes, because he didn’t _want_ to be hurt anymore. He didn’t _want_ to endure that pain, even if it made Rick happy.

He couldn’t bear the thought of Rick rejecting him after what happened tonight. After he’d seen him so vulnerable, there was no way he’d be able to take the insults and the disgusted looks. _It’d break him._

Morty whimpered as he stared up at Tiny Rick sadly, feeling dejected that they’d have to go back to that dynamic after tonight. He felt like everything that had just happened was a cruel tease to what they _could have_ had. But Morty knew he’d never be able to keep Tiny Rick happy enough to maintain something like this.

Rick would grow bored of him so fast, just like he already did once.

“Whoa, hey, hey, _hey,”_ Tiny Rick’s own smile fell, too, at the sight of Morty’s tears, and he looked down at him in confusion and concern. “W-what’s with the waterworks, Morty? What’s wrong? A-are you okay?”

Morty’s bottom lip trembled as the tears trailed down the sides of his face, and he wanted to hold his tongue, but the words came gushing from his mouth. “I-I don’t want you to leave again, Ri— Tiny Rick. I-I miss you, a-and tomorrow e-everything’s gonna go back to how it was yesterday, a-and—and you won’t wanna be near me cause I’m just some— some lame kid a-at school, and y-y-you’re—you’re actually _cool._ I-I-I don’t wanna— I don’t want you to _go.”_

Tiny Rick’s brow arched up in the middle, and he placed a hand over Morty’s cheek, wiping his tears away with his thumb. “D-don’t— don’t be like that, I-I’m not gonna... I won’t ditch you. I’m not gonna leave you, Mort. Y-you hear me?”

Morty shook his head. He felt selfish, crying like this in front of Tiny Rick. He seemed so happy as Tiny Rick. He couldn’t take that way. And even if he did decide to stick with Morty, he’d just end up getting bored and hurt him again. “I-I can’t— you _can’t_ — you like being Tiny Rick. Y-y-you’re so happy like this. I can’t make y-you happy like that.”

“Morty, listen, Morty, y-you make me _so_ happy.” Tiny Rick promised, brushing some of Morty’s brown hair away from his face. “Y-you make me happier than anyone else. Okay?”

Morty didn’t believe him. If that were true, he wouldn’t smile so beautifully like he did when he was around everyone else. He wouldn’t have blown Morty off and ditched him. He wouldn’t be _embarrassed_ to hang out with him in public.

He placed his hand over Tiny Rick’s, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “I-I just want to go to s-sleep, Tiny Rick. I-I’m just going to sleep now. I-I w-won’t be mad I-If you go. Y-you shouldn’t have to stay, okay? Y-you should be— shouldn’t be in here with me. Y-you should be out— to the party—“

“I’m n-not going to leave.” Tiny Rick cut him off, and Morty’s eyes snapped back open. He stared wide-eyed at Rick.

It was silent between them for a moment.

“Tiny Rick—“

“It’s just Rick, and I’m not gonna leave. I’m with you, Morty. I’m staying.” Rick cut him off again. And before Morty could respond, he spoke again. “Now, scoot over. I’ll go to sleep with you, alright? You won’t be alone. Not again.”

Morty shifted according to Rick’s will until they were both laying down in the tub next to each other. Morty was on his side, partially on top of Rick with his arm draped over his chest. Rick had his own arm wrapped around him, holding him close.

Morty whimpered, burying his face into Rick’s bare chest. He was struggling to keep his eyes open now, feeling exhausted. He yawned deeply, and let the warmth of Rick’s (artificial) body soothe him. Everything would be back to normal tomorrow. He knew that, but he couldn’t help but cherish the fact that he could hold on to Rick for just a little while longer before he had to be alone again.

“I’m not going to leave,” Rick said again. “I-I promise.”

“Promise?” Morty asked in confusion, letting his droopy eyelids slip shut. There was no way he’d keep that promise— it was too much. Rick never... made... promises... like that.

“Yes, I promise. I-I promise, Morty.” Rick assured, running his hand through Morty’s hair comfortingly. He sighed heavily as he curled into Morty, slotting their bodies more closely together. “I-I won’t leave. Now go to sleep, alright? You’re exhausted.”

Morty nodded, already feeling his mind and body slip off into the land of unconsciousness. He didn’t know if he should believe Rick, but right now, all he knew was that Rick was still here.

And he’d cherish whatever time he had left with him before everything went back to how it was yesterday.

Morty was asleep within moments.


	2. Chemicals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty yells at Rick a lot, guys. Like a lot. And there's lots of crying and guilt. I hope it's not too dramatic lol. And Morty is a little dense for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFFF this chapter has hella angst, so prepare yourselves for that. ALSO, GUYS SEASON FOUR EP SIX TOTALLY CALLED OUT THE SHIPPING COMMUNITY AND I FEEL PERSONALLY ATTACKED! XD

When Morty woke up, he was cold. His eyes slowly peeled themselves open, and he looked around in confusion, wondering where the hell he was. He didn’t recognize the ceiling, and he wasn’t on a bed— whatever he was on, it was hard and cold. 

And then he looked down and saw that white, porcelain walls were surrounding him on all sides. He tried to sit up, only for his forehead to smack into a faucet. With a yelp and pained groan, he placed a hand over at his eyes as his head thunked back against the bottom of the tub. He squeezed his eyes shut as he curled into himself. He was in a _bathtub_. Of course. That made sense.

Had he really fallen asleep in the bathtub? Now his whole body was sore because he’d slept on such a hard surface. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to remember how he’d even gotten here. He remembered cleaning while everyone partied. Or at least, he _tried_ to clean. And then he got crushed by some dude, so he ran to the bathroom to hide, where he found Tiny... Rick... and... and...

Morty’s eyes became unbelievably wide as the memory played in his mind like a movie, and he _stopped fucking breathing._ He laid frozen, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to process the fact that Tiny Rick had _jerked them both off in the bathtub._

He looked down at his chest and stomach, finding that it was caked with dried cum, and there was a blanket over his lap that hadn’t been there last night. _“What the actual **fuck,** Rick?”_ Morty whispered to himself as he sat up quickly (maneuvering around the faucet this time) and looked around the bathroom in shock.

He closed his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees as he rubbed at his temples, trying to figure out whether or not the whole thing had been a dream or not. It was just so surreal that he could almost— _almost_ — convince himself that it didn’t even happen. But he was naked, and in the bathtub, and there was _dried cum on his chest and stomach,_ so there was too much proof for Morty to just _pretend_ it was a dream.

“What the _fuck,_ Rick!” Morty said again, louder this time. He felt _betrayed_. He’d been high, and he wasn’t thinking straight. And he was vulnerable and emotional, and Tiny Rick used that to his advantage. He hadn’t known what he was really doing, and he’d been in such a bad mindset. How could Rick do this to him? And what the fuck was he thinking?

He didn’t know if it sounded better or worse when he internally rationalized that Tiny Rick had been high, too, and that he wasn’t used to being so fucking high that he almost couldn’t function. And he remembered Tiny Rick asking if he wanted to continue, and he’d said yes, so they continued. He _did_ ask, but he should have considered how fucking high he’d been. All decisions when inebriated are _bound_ to be irrational. 

And if anyone knew that, it was _Rick fucking Sanchez,_ so what the actual fuck?! 

Christ, what was he going to do? His own gr... fa... grand.... gr... pa... he couldn’t even think the word, it was so horrible. God, they were related! Rick had fucked his grandmother in order for his mother to even exist! And they— they did _that_ together? How could either of them be _okay_ with this knowledge?

Morty pulled at his hair for a moment before letting go and smacking his face a couple of times. Not hard enough to hurt himself, but just hard enough to help him get his shit together. He did this sometimes when he just couldn’t handle what he was hearing or thinking or experiencing. 

He couldn’t believe Tiny Rick had done that to him. He felt like he’d been roofied! Maybe unintentionally, but drugs and an action under the ‘sexual umbrella’ were both present and involved! It wasn’t right. Inebriated consent _resembles_ consent at best, and _isn’t_ consent at worst. It resembles consent, because yes, Morty _agreed_ that they should continue. But he hadn’t— _fuck, he hadn’t been thinking straight!_

He grabbed the blanket and firmly wrapped it around his naked form as he stood from the tub, stepping over the edge and onto the tiled floor as he shoved the curtain out of the way. His limbs felt heavy and stiff, and his mind felt like there was a light fog over it. Not to mention, his throat was dry and sore, probably from all the smoking.

He went to walk towards the sink when he almost tripped on something that was on the floor. He looked down and saw a pile of clothes folded up neatly, just waiting for him. It was _his clothes,_ stupid blue plaid jacket and all. He frowned. “R-really, Tiny Rick?” He asked in annoyance, even if the other teen wasn’t here to actually hear his rant. “Everything that happened last night, and the only thing you can think to do is throw a blanket over me and fold my clothes?”

It was actually pretty thoughtful, but Morty was too angry to really accept it as such. 

He walked past the clothes and straight towards the sink. He dropped the towel and turned the tap on, splashing his face with water and scrubbing it with his hands vigorously before grabbing a hand towel so he could wet it and start cleaning up the crusted cum on his chest and stomach. He continued to frown as he did it, growing angrier by the minute. 

All that happened last night, and Tiny Rick wasn’t even here. He was alone. In the bathroom. Naked, and covered in _both_ of their cum. God, it was going to really fucking suck when he saw Tiny Rick again. He was going to be an asshole to him, he could just feel it. He was going to pretend none of this ever even happened, and he was going to go be popular with Summer again, regardless of the promise he’d made to him last night.

Tiny Rick had been high last night, too. That meant he’d made some irrational decisions as well, like promising Morty that he wouldn’t leave him or ditch him, or whatever. Just like how Morty somehow _willingly_ let Tiny Rick give him a hand-job. 

Morty threw the hand towel in the sink and then placed his hands on either side of it, leaning on the porcelain as he stared at his face in the mirror. He had slight bags under his eyes, and he couldn’t tell if the redness in his cheeks was from the embarrassment or from the fact that he’d rubbed at his face so roughly. 

And then his eyes trailed down to his neck, where he spotted a light bruise. _A hickey._ Tiny Rick had been left a fucking _hickey_ on him. 

He quickly averted his eyes, feeling shame crawl up his spine from the sight. He was just going to ignore that he’d been marked by Tiny Rick at all. It didn’t exist. He needed it _not_ to exist. He sighed shakily as he turned away and picked up his clothes, which he quickly put on, including the plaid jacket. He was _freezing_ in here. It was probably a mistake to sleep in the fucking bathtub. The bathtub where _Tiny Rick had jerked him off._

What the _fuck_ had his life come to? How did this even happen?

Hesitantly, he cracked open the door and peered out into the hallway. It was a mess, which didn’t surprise him, and he felt frustration grow within him when he realized that he’d probably have to help clean it up. He slowly exited the bathroom and closed the door as quietly as possible behind him. 

There were _way_ more passed out people in the house than he’d ever seen in his own home before. Some were people he recognized from school or social media. Others were aliens, one of which he recognized was that one cat-like dude named Squanchy that Rick had been friends with since way before he returned to the family. 

When he made it into the living room, he found that there were _even more_ passed out people. There was a dude in the corner that was propped up in an uncomfortable-looking position, with a lampshade over his head. Someone had scribbled an angry-looking face on the front of it in sharpie. _That was going to be a bitch and a half to explain once mom and dad got home._

On the couch, he spotted his sister, with her boyfriend Ethan draped on top of her. Her hair was down and sprawled out all over the couch, and a strand of it was in her mouth. She had one leg propped up on top of the back of the couch, and one arm hanging off the side. Ethan was face down on top of her, his face resting on her chest. Morty frowned as he leaned over the side of the couch and shoved his sister’s shoulder. “Summer!” He whisper-shouted, not wanting to wake everyone up in fear that they’d get upset with him.

His sister groaned and swatted at him in her sleep. 

“Wake up, Summer!” Morty growled down at her, shoving her shoulder more harshly this time. It was honestly like poking an angry bear, but he _needed_ to talk to her. _Now._

The red-head groaned and grabbed a pillow from off the ground so she could smack her brother in the face with it. “Get outta here, Morty, I’m trying to sleep.”

_“Ack!”_ Morty flinched as the pillow smacked him in the face, and he scrambled to grab it before it fell to the ground. He glared down at his sister before smacking her in the face with the pillow as payback.

“OW!” She yelped, trying to grab the pillow back from him, but Morty managed to rip it from her grasp before she could. He held it over her threateningly. She glared up at her brother in anger. “Fine, what the fuck do you want, you ass?” She asked, fury in her tone. She’d never been a morning person— not that Morty could blame her, though. He very much wasn’t a morning person, either. 

Ethan groaned, patting her arm reassuringly. “Babe, relax.” He said, voice groggy from sleep. 

Summer had gotten back together with Ethan after Tiny Rick helped her get super popular. Morty still hated his guts and wished that the deformities he’d caused him after he betrayed his sister had stayed. He narrowed his eyes at him in disgust for a moment before he turned back to Summer so he could answer her.

“D-do you know where the hell Tiny Rick is?” He asked, feeling once again upset over what had happened. He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “I-I really need to talk to him. It’s important.”

Summer groaned and rolled her eyes, looking extremely annoyed that he’d asked such a ridiculous question. “You’re not cool enough to talk to him, Morty. You’re on the bottom of the food chain, while he’s at the top. Why even bother trying, you idiot?” 

Morty smacked her with the pillow again, harder this time as frustrated tears came springing to his eyes. He’d just snapped. He couldn’t take it. He was emotional enough as it was. He felt exposed and vulnerable, and her words hurt far more than they usually did. After everything that happened last night, he couldn’t handle hearing those _words._

_ You’re not cool enough, Morty. _

_ You’re bumming everyone out. _

_ Nobody wants you here. _

**_ Rick thinks you’re lame, and he made you come last night. You came last night because your grandpa jerked you off! _ **

“HEY!” Summer yelled, sitting up from the couch with a completely enraged look in her eyes. “Do that again and I’ll strangle you!”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, Summer!” Morty yelled, no longer caring if he woke everyone up. He didn’t care if he woke the whole damn neighborhood, honestly. 

“I can talk to you however I want, Morty!” Summer snapped back at him, wincing slightly and grabbing at her head as she fell back into the couch. _“Fuck,_ I’m so hungover.”

Morty felt tears overflow from his eyes and slip down his cheeks as he glared down at his sister. “Tell me where grandpa Rick is, Summer!” He demanded.

“He’s not grandpa Rick anymore, Morty!” Summer snapped back at him harshly. “He’s Tiny Rick, and I’m his favorite now! So just shut up and deal with it! God, you’re so fucking needy. Do you really need his attention twenty-four-fucking-seven?” 

Morty felt a weird range of emotions fill him at her words. The most prominent part of him was almost mad because Tiny Rick violated so many boundaries last night. But an even deeper, much more strong-rooted part of him was completely _devastated._ Because it was true, wasn’t it? It used to be Rick and Morty, but now it was Tiny Rick and Summer. 

It made him feel like Tiny Rick had used him like a tissue, and then tossed him in the garbage. That’s how he felt about last night. Just a warm body to get off with and then toss away. He was garbage in Tiny Rick’s eyes, and he’d used him, even when the whole interaction had meant so much more to Morty. It wasn’t _fair._

“Why are you so mean to me, Summer?” Morty asked, voice cracking slightly as his bottom lip quivered. “Why are you _both_ so mean to me? I haven’t d-done anything wrong to you guys.”

He really hadn’t done anything wrong, and he knew that. But that didn’t stop him from feeling like an insignificant ant being crushed underneath the soles of their shoes. He was supposed to be their family, regardless of what body they were in. But they treated him like _dirt_.

Ethan groaned and rolled off of Summer and the couch. He grunted when his back hit the ground with a thump. “Babe, I can’t sleep with your brother complaining like this.”

Summer groaned. “Ethan, don’t leave. I’ll make him go.” She said, and the turned to Morty, doing a shooing motion with her hands. “Go away, Morty. Shoo.”

“Please, just tell me where Tiny Rick is, and I’ll go.” Morty pleaded. He could feel the anger in him start to drain, replaced with despair and exhaustion. 

Summer groaned again. _“I don’t know,_ Morty. Just go look for him somewhere else. Don’t even know why you think it’s acceptable to talk to him.”

Morty felt his already cracked spirit whittle down even more. 

Ethan sighed. “I think he went through that door over there.” He pointed towards the garage.

As if on cue, the garage door suddenly swung open and Rick stepped out— and not _Tiny_ Rick. Actual Rick. _Older_ Rick. He was back in his normal body. 

Morty’s eyes widened and he felt his heart hammer with anxiety inside his chest as Rick made eye contact with him from across the room. His gaze felt _electrifying_. He hadn’t seen his grandpa in his normal body in over a month, and the sight shocked him to his core. He’d been going on and on about how great it was to be young again, to be _Tiny Rick._

And he just jumped back into his own body _way_ before he was planning to actually do it? It didn’t make any sense.

_ Unless it had something to do with last night. _

Rick suddenly looked away from Morty awkwardly, a guilty expression on his face. He was missing his blue sweater, so he only had a white tank top on under his lab coat, and he looked thinner than usual. Probably a result of his body being suspended in some kind of odd fluid for over a month.

“Grandpa Rick!” Summer whined, letting her head fall back against the arm of the couch in frustration. “Why did you change back? We were having so much fun! I thought you were gonna stay for a few more months?” 

“Aw, what? Tiny Rick’s _gone?"_ Ethan complained from the floor. “Noooo... he was so cool, though.”

Rick rolled his eyes at them. “Who cares what you think, Summer. I-I thought you knew that I do whatever I want, whenever I want.”

Summer sighed. “Whatever, Grandpa. Morty’s been bugging me all morning about where you are. Take him away from me before I punch him in the face.”

“No!” Morty yelled, wiping at the tears on his face with his sleeve. “I-I changed my mind. I-I don’t wanna be around either of you anymore.” 

“God, then why the fuck did you have to wake me up?” Summer asked in exasperation, once again glaring up at her little brother. “And why the fuck are you crying? We just threw a killer party that you were invited to by default, ‘cause you live here. You should be hungover and passed out on the floor like everyone else.”

Morty balled his hands into fists at his sides where she couldn’t see them before he simply turned away from her and started walking away. 

“Morty, come b-back!” Rick called to him. “I gotta talk to you.”

Morty ignored him, heading back towards the bathroom, being careful not to step on anyone along the way. He changed his mind. He really had. He didn’t want to talk to Rick anymore, he wanted to avoid him. He didn’t want to know why Rick decided to change back early, and he didn’t care. At least, not anymore. 

If it had something to do with what Morty said last night about missing him, then he didn’t want to hear it. It felt like a grand gesture of sorts, but it didn’t feel right after last night. 

He locked the bathroom door behind him once he got inside, and grabbed the blanket he’d left on the floor before shamefully climbing back into the bathtub and wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. He would have gone to his room, but seeing all the passed out bodies in the living room lead him to believe that there were probably a bunch of people upstairs, too. 

He didn’t want to go all the way up there just to find his bedroom packed with people he didn’t know, because then he’d have to do the walk of shame back down into the living room. Where Summer was. 

Where _Rick_ was. 

He heard a knock at the door, and he cringed. 

“Morty?” It was Rick. 

Of course, it was him. Who else would it be? Morty decided to ignore him. _Just ignore him, and maybe he’ll go away. Please, just go away._

“C’mon, kid, I-I know you’re in there.” Rick sighed. Morty heard the door handle twist. 

Morty sunk down further into the bathtub. 

Silence.

“If you don’t open the door, you know I’ll j-just portal in, right?” 

That was true. Morty knew he’d do it. Rick wasn’t the type to just walk away when he could just portal inside. Rick was many things, but he wasn’t a man of empty threats. _Inconsiderate asshole._

Morty grit his teeth in frustration. He couldn’t just pretend that he’d leave anymore. A confrontation was inevitable if he did that. “Just go away, Rick!” He snapped, pulling the blanket up over his head and curling up into the fetal position in the tub. He wished he could just sink deeper and deeper into the bathtub until he just disappeared. 

Morty groaned when he heard the tell-tale sound of a portal opening, and he could see a faint green light through the thin fabric of the blanket. _Fucking great._

In the next moment, he heard the hooks of the shower curtain scratch across the bar as he pushed it aside. “Really, Morty? This again? W-What is with you and hiding in bathtubs?”

“None of your business, Rick! Just go away!” Morty yelled, placing his hands over his ears so he didn’t have to hear what Rick had to say next. He wanted so badly to just disappear. 

Rick was talking, but it was muffled and he couldn’t decipher the words. He went on like that for a few sentences before he realized Morty couldn’t hear him and he yanked the blanket off of him in one quick swipe. Morty shivered as the cold air from the room reached him, and he strained against Rick as he grabbed ahold of his hands and pulled them away from his ears.

“Let go, Rick!” Morty glared at him, placing his feet on the wall of the tub as he tried to push away from him. 

“Morty, if you don’t snap out of this right now—“

“You’ll what?” Morty snapped at him, venom seeping from his pores as he bared his teeth at Rick. _“You’ll roofie me again and have your way?”_

Rick’s eyes widened and his grip slipped, causing Morty to fall harshly back into the bathtub. The back of his head slammed painfully into the bottom of it with a loud thump, and Rick flinched from the sound of it. 

_“Ow,_ fuck!” Morty yelped, rubbing at the quickly forming bump on the back of his head. He glared up at Rick, fire in his eyes. “The hell, Rick?!”

“What the hell, Morty! I did _not_ roofie you!” Rick protested, gaping at him like a fish. The old man looked _horrified_ by Morty’s accusation. He backed away apprehensively, like he was afraid that the teen was going to start screaming more accusations at him. 

Morty scrambled in the bathtub, standing to his feet, chest heaving slightly as he stepped over the side. His foot caught on the edge of it for a moment, and he nearly fell, only barely managing to regain balance in time by hopping on one foot. He stood up straight, breathing heavily as he glared at Rick. “Then what the hell _did_ happen Rick?! I-I was already vulnerable, and-and-and then you got me _high_ , and then you— you— _ugh_ , you know what you did!” He pointed at Rick accusingly.

“You said it was alright! I-I asked you! A-and—and _I_ didn’t get you high! You did that yourself, Morty! I didn’t make you do anything!” Rick glared at him, looking more and more exasperated by the minute. “I-I thought you wanted it! You can’t be mad at me when _you’re_ the one who said yes!”

“I-I didn’t know what I was saying, Rick!” Morty cried, tears filling his eyes yet again. He hated that he could never yell without crying— it’s not like he _wanted_ to cry. He hardly even felt like crying, but his body just wouldn’t allow him not to. “I-I didn’t think, Rick! I-I _couldn’t!_ Not while I was like that! I-I didn’t know what I was doing!” 

He slowly walked towards Rick as tears streamed down his face, and with every step he took, Rick took one away from him. “Y-you—you _used_ me! My head was all fucked up, and I didn’t know what I wanted, and—and I said yes because I thought that was what I wanted at the time. I-I didn’t think about how y-you were my grandpa, and-and I forgot about how you treated me as Tiny Rick until after we did it... Rick, I-I _couldn’t. Think._ Why don’t you understand that?!”

Rick’s back hit the wall, and he looked around frantically for an escape route. But before he could do anything, Morty was standing right in front of him, angry tears streaming down his face. _“You. Used. Me."_ He punctuated each word by poking Rick in the chest harshly. “B-because you were in a _stupid_ teenage body, and you were horny and high, and I just happened to be there, Rick! I was just _there,_ and I was vulnerable, and you _knew it,_ so you _used_ me!” 

He grabbed the fabric of Rick’s lab coat, his hands shaking as he stared up at him. “I-I didn’t know what I was saying yes to, Rick. I-I didn’t care what I was saying yes to!” 

Rick grabbed Morty’s hands, and Morty could feel the older man trembling. 

“I let you hurt me all the time, Rick,” Morty said, voice beginning to tremble as his emotions got the best of him. Now the tears were falling earnestly. “Y-you hurt me on adventures, and you hurt me when you were Tiny Rick, b-but I let you hurt me too much last night! I-It was too much, Rick. I didn’t know— I-I didn’t _know_ what I was... what I was _doing_....”

“I-I-I’m s-sorry.” Rick's voice was trembling. Morty could feel Rick’s whole body trembling. “Morty, I’m so s-sorry.”

Morty’s hands tightened even more around the white fabric as he let out a sob, feeling the energy drain from him. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t have anything _left_ to say. And now he felt empty, devoid of all the anger and resentment he’d had. And now he just felt sad. 

Sad that he’d yelled at his only friend, sad that Rick felt so bad about this that he’d not only apologized, which he _never_ does, but that he was also _trembling_. And Rick didn’t tremble either, but he was doing it now. But he couldn’t say that he felt bad for yelling, because he knew he had every right to yell at Rick. Everything he’d said was true. Maybe not the roofie part, but everything else was true. At least, he felt that it was true. 

“I-I... I didn’t want it to be like this, Morty.” Rick said, voice barely above a whisper. “I-I-I didn’t want you to feel like this.”

Morty let out a sound that could be described as either a sob or a laugh. “H-how the hell did you _expect_ me to feel, Rick?” He asked, hardly able to _believe_ what he was saying. Had he really expected Morty to feel anything but shitty after that? Especially because he’d been too high to really think?

Rick was staring down at him with wide eyes. “I-I dunno, Morty... not like this? I-I didn’t...” He trailed off, looking at Morty like he was at a complete loss for words. He looked like a kicked puppy who didn’t know how to function after being betrayed. 

Morty laughed through his tears, feeling like his heart was being squeezed to death inside his chest. “R-Rick...” Was all he could manage before he broke off into a bunch of giggles that he couldn’t control. He felt like he was dying inside.

Rick didn’t laugh with him. He just stood there, looking confused and horrified as Morty laughed harder than he’d seen him laugh in a long time. But then Morty’s laugher started to morph into a weird half-sob half-laugh, and then they started to come out as actual sobs. And Morty let go of Rick’s coat, taking a few steps back to give both of them the room they needed to breathe.

“Morty...” Rick said, reaching out towards the teen.

Morty didn’t respond, only wrapping his arms around his stomach and hunching forward slightly. He was crying so hard, and his emotions were so overwhelming that it _physically_ hurt him. It was like all the pain from the last month was finally registering. The bottled up emotions were finally spilling, and he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know how to handle this. Did Rick really not realize how bad this was going to hurt him? Had he really thought that he’d be fine after something like that? After that entire month of abandonment Rick had put him through? 

Rick placed his hands on Morty’s shoulders, trying to get his attention. “Morty, please— you gotta— please stop crying. I-I don’t know, um, I’m not— I don’t know how to do this. I’m not good at, uh... at comforting... people... I just— I’m sorry...” 

Morty shook his head, debating between pulling away from Rick or going towards him. “Oh god, Rick.” He said, grabbing at his own hair again and pulling like he was trying to rip it out. “I-I don’t know what to do with you, Rick. _I don’t know what to do."_

“Morty. St— _stop that._ You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Rick said sternly, grabbing at Morty’s hands and prying then away from his hair so he couldn’t pull at it. 

“Y-you wanted to do that before last night, didn’t you?” Morty cried, the words coming out of his mouth before the thought even fully processed in his mind. Rick said he thought it would go down differently. He must have wanted to do something like that before, didn’t he?

“W-w-what?” Rick stuttered. 

Morty sobbed, unable to look Rick in the eye for a moment. “You wanted to do that before, didn’t you?!”

Rick’s eyes were wide as he stared down at Morty, and he didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Like he was frozen. 

A shaky smile came over Morty’s face, and he finally managed to make eye contact, boring his eyes into Rick’s. “I-I’m right, aren’t I? Y-y-you wanted to do that _way_ before it actually happened.”

“Stop.” Rick said, his eyes slipping shut so he didn’t have to see that look on Morty’s face. 

“W-were you just biding your time?” Morty whimpered, feeling like his mind was kicking into overdrive with paranoia and anxiety. How long had Rick been looking at him like a piece of meat? And how had he not _noticed?_ “Y-y-you just had to wait until I was vulnerable enough to let you do it. Y-you k-k- _knew_ I’d let you. I-I always _let_ you take what you want.”

Morty couldn’t deny that he’d thought about Rick that way, too. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t. He just tried not to think about it, and he refused to ever act on it. He refused to even let himself _think_ about it. 

“Morty,” Rick said sternly, shaking him a little bit. _“Stop._ I-I wasn’t... I didn’t _bide_ my fucking time. W-why would I ever... why would I try to hurt you like that? I didn’t want to... _fuck,_ Morty, I didn’t want _this."_ He gestured to the teen. “I didn’t plan on something like this ever happening. B-but y-you said you missed me, and I was... yes, I was high and horny, okay? A-and that’s no excuse, but... b-but you said you _missed_ me, Morty. An-and nobody missed the real me. Everyone liked Tiny Rick, but you liked _me._ A-And I got so hung up on that, and I just— I just—“ 

“Y-you— when you were Tiny Rick, you were _cruel_ to me, Rick!” Morty cried in exasperation, yanking his hands away from Rick and backing away again. How _dare_ he say that after how he’d treated him? “Y-you acted like you _hated_ me! Y-y-you said I wasn’t cool, and that I was making everyone upset! Y-y-you wouldn’t let me hang out with you guys! You _made_ me miss you! I _hated_ Tiny Rick because _he_ hated me! Why the _fuck_ would I want Tiny Rick over you if that was the case?!”

He couldn’t understand why Rick couldn’t _see_ that. He went through a whole month, despising the fact that Rick had changed his own age. And it was all because of the way he treated him. He treated him like _garbage_. He wasn’t even family in Tiny Rick’s eyes, so of course, he missed the _older_ Rick. He missed the Rick that actually gave him the time of day, the one that he had inside jokes with, and hung out with on a daily basis. 

He’d only put up with Tiny Rick because Rick was having fun _being_ him. And just like he always does, he _let_ Rick hurt him. He let Rick hurt him over and over and over again. Because Morty was a people-pleaser when he actually liked or cared about someone. And he’d always be like that because he loved Rick. He loved his grandpa, and even if he always hurt him, Morty wanted his grandpa to be _happy_.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it, Morty.” Rick protested again, and Morty could see a deep sadness in his eyes. “I didn’t mean what I said... I-I never thought you weren’t cool enough to hang around.”

“Then why the hell did you say all those things, Rick?” Morty asked, wiping at his face. He had to calm down. _He just wished he could stop fucking crying._ “Did you actually get so lost in your stupid, _fake_ teenage mindset that you actually started _caring_ about what my dumb classmates thought about you?”

_“No,_ god, Morty—“

“Then what was it, Rick?!” Morty yelled, throwing his arms out to his sides in exasperation. “What made you say those things?!”

“I was _scared!"_ Rick yelled back, and the room went silent.

Morty’s arms fell limply at his sides as he stared at Rick in a mixture of confusion and anger. He narrowed his eyes at him, not understanding. Scared of _what?_ What could Rick Sanchez have possibly been scared of? “W-What does that even _mean?"_

Rick’s face morphed into an expression that Morty couldn’t read. “I-I was scared of _you,_ okay?” The older man clenched his hands at his sides and narrowed his eyes. “Y-you were right when you said I wanted you before that, b-but... but I wasn’t going to do anything. But when I was in that stupid, hormone-riddled body, I couldn’t stand it. Do you have any idea how fucking crazy you made me? You could come within five feet of me, and my heart beat faster, and I’d start profusely sweating like some love-sick virgin on prom night. I couldn’t stop _staring_ at you, and thinking about you. Y-y-you were so close to me, and when you sat next to me at lunch your arm would brush against mine, and I couldn’t _handle_ it. I couldn’t _bear_ to be that close to you when I couldn’t have you. That _body_ reacted just as strongly as my mind does when you’re around, and I couldn’t handle it...”

Morty’s expression was slowly starting to soften with each word, the fire in him once again dwindling down. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about this. He didn’t know if he should be disgusted that Rick felt like that at all, or grateful that Rick had tried to prevent anything like last night from happening. He didn’t feel disgusted _or_ grateful. 

“So I had to make sure there was a distance between us.” Rick continued, letting his hands relax as his shoulders slumped. “I-I needed you to stay away from me, so I bullied you. I-I said all those things to you so you’d be hurt and not want to hang out with me. In my mind, it was better than the alternative. It was better than me slipping up and _kissing_ you, or _touching_ you... or saying something _fucking stupid._ It was better for you to be hurt by my words because I could always make _that_ up to you.”

Morty looked down at his feet, feeling his face begin to heat up at Rick’s words. He couldn’t tell if that information made him feel better or worse. At least now he knew why Tiny Rick had treated him that way. At least he knew Tiny Rick hadn’t hated him or thought he was lame or something. But now there was a whole new set of confusing emotions running around inside his head. 

He really didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. Maybe he should be feeling creeped out because Rick was his _grandfather_. That little fact is one of the main reasons he’s been freaking out about this whole thing. But he didn’t feel creeped out so much as he felt... _flustered_. He was ashamed to admit it, but he’d always had a bit of a crush on Rick. 

How could he not? Rick was terrible, but he was so amazing, too. He admired the man’s strength, his intelligence, his confidence, his charisma. He was a catch, in a strange way. And Morty had never felt the need to pursue Rick, but now he felt confused.

“Last night, I-I thought...” Rick paused, swallowing nervously. “I thought I’d be able to handle just one easy night with you. I m-missed being around you, and-and when you weren’t around, you were all I could think about. So I thought, ‘it’s just one night,’ and I asked you to stay. I asked you to smoke. But I couldn’t handle it. I-I couldn’t handle being around you in that... that body. And I made a mistake. And I am sorry for that. I’m sorry for last night, and-and I’m sorry for bullying you... I’m sorry for hurting you...”

Morty finally looked up at Rick, taking in a shaky breath of air. It was strange to hear him apologize so much. “D-do you still feel that way? T-the way you did when you were Tiny Rick?” His voice was soft, devoid of all the fury and anger and sadness it’d held before. 

Rick squeezed his eyes shut. “What do you think, Morty?”

Morty didn’t say anything, leaving him with only the ability to assume. He’d said he’d felt that way before he became Tiny Rick... just with less teenage hormone-induced intensity. And he’d said that Tiny Rick’s body had reacted as strong as his mind did. But what did that even mean? That Rick was in love with him or something? The thought honestly just made Morty want to roll over and laugh, because _Rick Sanchez?_ In love with his awkward, clumsy, teenage grandson?

He’d heard enough ‘love is just a chemical reaction in your brain’ speeches to dismiss the thought. But... with how Rick was acting now, it made him feel so uncertain. 

And then his thoughts drifted back to last night. When Tiny Rick kissed him because Morty was there and he was horny. Yeah, what happened last night couldn’t have been love if Rick only wanted him because he was _horny._ He had to know what last night had meant to Rick. If he was just a convenient body there for him to use, or if it had meant as much to Rick as it had for Morty.

“Rick, I-if it had been someone else...” Morty began, his brows furrowing. “Would y-you have done the same? I-If it was some other person in there with you, smoking weed, would you have done that with them, too?”

Rick scoffed and scuffed his foot into the ground. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is probably not what you wanna hear, but I don’t k-know... I-it depends, I guess? I-I probably wouldn’t‘ve even initiated anything, but if they came on to me first, I was in a horny teenager’s body, so... I probably would’a went with it. I mean, even as an adult I kinda just fuck around with whoever.”

“Oh.” Morty said, looking down at his feet again as disappointment filled him. Ouch. Was Morty really just “whoever” in Rick’s eyes?

Rick sighed again. “I-I didn’t mean it like that, Morty. It... was different with you. It... it actually meant something with you. I-It wouldn’t have meant anything if it was with someone else...”

Morty rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defensively— as if it would protect him from his own emotions. “Rick, I can tell you with certainty that I-I’m nowhere _near_ as glamorous as anyone else you’ve fooled around with. Y-y-you-you don’t have to pretend it was something that it wasn’t.”

Rick groaned, looking at Morty like he was stupid. “Are you even listening to a damn thing I’m saying?”

“Yes! I am!” Morty glared at him. “Y-you’re, like, attracted to me, and y-y-you wanted to fool around, but I’m your grandson, so you tried to avoid it. And then we got high together, and it happened anyway!” He rolled his eyes again. “I-I get it, Rick. I really do. A-and now I just wanna pretend it never happened. We’re doing that now, okay?”

Morty didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want to pretend it never happened. In fact, he _feared_ that Rick would just pretend it never happened, but what else were they supposed to do? The teen couldn’t be sure of Rick’s intentions. He didn’t want to be used again. 

Rick’s mouth moved, but no words came out. He couldn’t figure out what to say.

Morty scoffed. “I-I’m done with this. I’m gonna go see if I can clear out my room.”

He started walking towards the door, thinking about how he was going to kick a bunch of hungover people out of his room. It was going to have a lot of backlash, but he needed his room back. He needed to be alone to just... think by himself. 

But before he could make it to the door, Rick grabbed his arm just above the elbow. “Jesus, Morty, y-you don’t get it!” He said, grip tightening slightly. It wasn’t enough to be painful, but it was enough to keep Morty in place.

Morty turned to him, frowning. “Rick, _let go."_ He got a little déjà vu from the previous night. Here they were again— Morty attempting to leave while Rick held him back. Morty wasn’t going to let Rick convince him this time, though. 

“Listen!” Rick growled, still not letting go of his arm, even as Morty tugged against him. “I-I’m not just attracted to you! I’m _in love with you!"_

_ What. _

Morty froze, his plan to leave vanishing from his brain in an instant. He looked at Rick with wide eyes, mouth gaping open wordlessly. He felt like his heart just stopped beating. _Holy shit._

What the fuck did Rick just _say?_

Rick’s face suddenly flushed red, which Morty had never seen happen before with this much intensity, and he couldn’t help but continue to gape at him. The older man finally let go of his arm, his posture deflating once again. He looked off to the side in shame. “I-I love you...” He said, voice barely a whisper. Like his confidence had fled from him, but he still had to try. 

Morty placed a hand over his own chest, his own face growing unbearably warm at the confession. “You’re in love with _me?_ Are you serious?” He asked incredulously, struggling to believe him. “Of all people, _me?"_

Rick cleared his throat, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. Morty knew at that moment that he was going to start backtracking. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “Let’s just forget it, like you said.” He made a move to walk past Morty.

“Uh, excuse you.” Morty placed a hand on Rick’s chest firmly to stop him. “Y-you can’t just make a confession like that and _walk away._ What the hell, Rick?”

Rick rolled his eyes. “I can do whatever I want, Morty. Now move.”

Morty stepped in front of him, both hands pushing against his chest this time. “No.”

Rick glared down at Morty. “I’m not asking.”

“You promised you’d stay.” Morty’s voice came out sternly, and he narrowed his eyes at Rick as if daring him to break his promise. He knew he was putting on a strong front, but really, he was terrified on the inside. He didn’t know if Rick would keep his promise. Rick was usually a man of his word, especially when it came to him, but in this situation? Morty didn’t know what to expect from Rick. It was new territory. 

Rick threw his hands up in exasperation for a moment before letting them fall limply at his sides. He glared at Morty, looking frustrated and upset with his choice of words. “That’s a dirty move, Morty.”

“What you did last night was _‘dirty move.’”_ Morty countered, frowning at Rick indignantly. He didn’t let it show, but he felt relief fill him. Rick wasn’t going to leave. Not unless Morty told him to. 

Rick just stared at him incredulously. “What the fuck do you want from me, Morty?”

Morty didn’t know what to say. He had so many emotions fluttering through him, and he couldn’t seem to channel them into words. “I-I...” He tried but quickly failed to continue. 

Rick continued to stare at him silently, waiting for him to get his shit together. He knew Morty needed time to think sometimes. It’s something he learned over the years, and he’d adjusted himself to remember and respect that fact. But his patience was wearing thin— if Morty didn’t give him a good answer soon, he was going to snap. 

Morty’s mind was racing. He didn’t know what he wanted. What was he supposed to want? What was he supposed to _say?_ “I-I don’t know, Rick. I-I just— I’m... I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you _don’t know?"_ Rick snapped at him. 

“I just _don’t know!"_ Morty snapped back, feeling frustration fill him once again at Rick’s lack of understanding. He just needed a minute to think. He hated all this pressure. He couldn’t _think_.

“Well, how the fuck do you feel then, Morty?!” Rick growled down at him, towering over him like a giant. He was bearing his teeth, absolutely seething with anger. “Do you hate me now, Morty?! Huh?! Because I-I-I can just leave! Just say it already, goddamn it! I’ll leave, and you’ll never have to see me again!”

Morty didn’t even flinch as Rick towered over him threateningly, knowing that Rick’s anger was only a defense mechanism. He glared up at him, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “Stop it, Rick! Just _stop!"_

“Stop what, Morty?!” Rick growled, shoving him lightly in the chest. “Stop what?! Speak up!”

Morty stumbled back slightly before shoving Rick back angrily, almost out of reflex. If Rick wanted to get fucking violent, Morty would, too. He wasn’t a fucking pushover. “DON’T FUCKING PUSH ME, RICK!”

“TELL ME TO GO AND I’LL FUCKING GO, MORTY!” Rick yelled back at him, shoving Morty harder this time so that his back hit the door. “WE BOTH KNOW YOU WANT ME TO, SO JUST SAY IT SO I DON’T HAVE TO KEEP THAT STUPID PROMISE!”

“IT WASN’T STUPID!” Morty yelled. He shoved Rick again, and the man stumbled back. And then he shoved him again. And again, feeling his frustration and anger bubble inside his veins even as tears rose to his eyes _again_. “AND I DON’T FUCKING HATE YOU, RICK! SO JUST ST _op!"_ His voice cracked on the last syllable, revealing all of his broken emotions. 

Rick stared down him blankly, chest heaving as he opened his mouth to speak. “You _should_ hate me, Morty. You’re a fucking idiot if you don’t.”

“Y-you think I don’t know that already?” Morty said, breathing heavily as he tried to regain control of his emotions. His thoughts were finally falling into place. Not all of them, but the important ones were. The ones that Morty needed right now. Maybe he really was supposed to hate Rick now. But the thing is, he doesn’t. 

He _can’t_ hate Rick. He could never hate him. 

Rick looked away.

Morty took in a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself. He reached forward, grabbing the sleeve of Rick’s lab coat in an attempt to get his attention. But he still didn’t look at him. Morty’s expression fell, disappointment filling him. 

But he had to trudge on. He _needed_ Rick to hear this, so he parted his lips shakily to speak. 

“I-I don’t hate you, Rick... I’d...” Morty hesitated, feeling heat rise to his face. It was time to confess something that he’d barely been able to acknowledge in his own mind. “I’d be... a... a hyp-hypocrite if I did.” He stuttered, voice growing quiet. He shrunk in on himself slightly. If Rick didn’t get what he was saying, then he was stupid.

Rick finally turned to look at him, but Morty couldn’t see his expression because he closed his eyes. If he saw Rick’s face, he wouldn’t be able to continue.

“I-I don’t know _exactly_ how I feel, Rick... because I’ve been suppressing certain emotions for a _long_ time. B-but I’ve... I’ve kinda...” He swallowed heavily, trying everything he could to regain his nerve. “I’ve kinda had a stupid crush on you for some time now, I-I just... I don’t know how to deal with it.”

He almost felt more exposed now then he had last night. He was being more raw and honest with Rick than he ever imagined he’d be. He never thought that one day he’d actually tell Rick this. 

“I-I _know_ that’s why I said yes last night...” He continued when Rick didn’t respond. “Cause I... I _wanted_ it.” He squeezed his eyed closed even tighter, almost afraid that somehow he’d be able to see Rick’s face through his eyelids. “B-but... you have to understand w-why it hurt me, R-Rick... I felt... I’ve _been_ feeling... so _low_ recently. I _missed_ you... so _fucking_ much. And I thought that you— that _Tiny Rick_ — hated my guts. So when you kissed me, it seemed l-like such a good idea, Rick. All I could think about was how good it felt, and how much I missed you, and how glad I was that you were finally seeing me as a person again...”

He trailed off for a second, hand tightening around the fabric of Rick’s sleeve. “I said yes because I _wanted_ it, Rick... but... but I also said yes because I felt like shit. Do you have any idea how insecure it made me feel when I woke up this morning? I-I felt like you... like you used me and then threw me away, because you said all those _things,_ Rick, and you’d been avoiding me for _so long._ You can’t just... push me away and then _do_ that to me.”

Rick stayed silent as Morty continued to pour his heart out. 

“And you know, I-If I hadn’t been high... if you had kissed me for the first time _right now,_ I w-would have needed _time,_ Rick. I would have... I would have asked you to slow down, I-I would have asked for some time to gather myself because I _wasn’t ready._ A-and I... I would have made sure I _knew_ what I was getting into, because last night, I had _no idea_ you loved me, Rick. All I knew was that Tiny Rick thought I was lame, and-and I missed you... and I was so fucking desperate for _any_ form of your attention. Anything that wasn’t disgust or annoyance.”

Rick placed a hand on Morty’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Y-you and Summer have been treating me like _garbage_ , Rick. And I’ve been so _alone_. I-I don’t know what’s so... _wrong_ with me for you guys to treat me like that, but I’ve been taking it for so... damn... _long_. A-and after last night... after I was so _vulnerable_ in front of you... I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t handle it.”

Rick’s hold tightened on Morty’s shoulder and suddenly the teen was being pulled forward. Morty squeaked in surprise as he suddenly found himself pressed into Rick’s chest. The older man’s arms coiled around him strongly. Rick was trembling again. 

Morty let his eyes finally open, and he looked up at Rick’s face, expecting to see that same blank expression that the old man had had on for a while. But instead, he saw a trail of tears staining his ashen cheeks, and a broken look in his eyes. The sight brought Morty to tears as well, and he buried his face into Rick’s chest, wrapping his arms around his frail form. 

Rick was thinner than Morty remembered, and he had a distinctly chemical smell coming off of him. The teen had to remind himself that this body— Rick’s _actual_ body— had been floating in a tank for the past month, not moving or anything. Rick probably felt like shit right now, in every definition of the word. He wondered what state he’d be in if he’d stayed in that tank for even longer. Maybe it was a good thing that he was back in his body now. 

“T-there’s nothing wrong with you, Morty,” Rick spoke shakily, and Morty could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. “I-I’m just a piece of shit, kid... I’m just an old piece of shit that fucks everything up all the time, alright? Y-you’re wonderful, Morty... I-I never say it because I’m such a dumbass, but... you’re so wonderful... y-you make everything better, and I just... I take you for granite— _granted_ \-- because I’m such a piece of shit.”

Morty held onto Rick tighter and whimpered into his chest, wanting to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t have to be sorry. Morty was a people pleaser, so every part of him wanted Rick _not_ to feel guilty. But he also knew that this was how it had to be right now. Rick had done some pretty fucked up things to him, and it left his mind swirling with painful, barely contained emotions that kept building up and up and up. 

He knew he couldn’t take it anymore. And that’s why he didn’t tell Rick that it was okay. Because it _wasn’t_. The situation was foreign to Morty— to not reassure people when or if they apologized to him. Because usually, when people said sorry to him it was genuinely an accident. 

But Rick had hurt him in so many ways before. And he never apologized. Not until now. But Morty knew one thing he could say. One thing that would mean something, and it would be honest.

“I-I forgive you, Rick.” Morty said.

He meant it. Rick had never apologized to him before, and he seemed like he genuinely regretted his actions. Rick knew he fucked up. He knew he hurt him in a really bad way. And Rick was hurting because Morty was hurting.

Rick tensed at Morty’s words before gently pushing him back. He turned away from him, wiping the snot and tears from his face. “Morty... Y-you’re being... you’re being stupid.”

Morty frowned at him. 

“Y-you shouldn’t... just _forgive_ me.” He continued as Morty frowned at him. 

“I-I didn’t.” Morty countered, battling internally not to feel hurt by his words. He knew Rick wasn’t actually insulting him. He just didn’t feel like Morty should forgive him. Rick felt _guilty_. “I-I just screamed in your face until we both poured our guts out, and you apologized, which you don’t ever do. A-and _then_ I forgave you. B-but, you know, I won’t forget. A-and I’ll need time to get over it, but I care about you too much to just... _not_ forgive you.”

Rick looked like he was battling with himself, too. “Morty, _god,"_ He said, tears quickly building up in his eyes again. He began hastily wiping them away. “Y-you can’t just... how could you just let it go like that?”

Morty surged forward and hugged Rick again, causing the older man to stumble slightly. Rick didn’t always respond well to receiving hugs, but right now seemed like an exception. Especially after last night. 

“R-Rick, for once in your idiotic goddamn life, stop asking stupid questions and just take what you can get.” Morty reiterated something that Rick had said to him the previous night. His tone was soft despite the harsh words. He buried his face into Rick’s chest again and squeezed his eyes shut. It was nice being close to Rick. It was nice to have him back. 

Rick sighed, but he didn’t sound too upset. “I hate it when you use my own words against me...”

Morty couldn’t help but grin just a little bit. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I really hoped the ending was satisfying. I actually had this entire thing already fully written out like a year ago, but I was never satisfied with the ending. But after going over it hundreds of times, I realized that it wasn't going to change. So I guess I'm just gonna keep it like that. I'd love your feedback if you have any!

**Author's Note:**

> Please check this out: https://www.deviantart.com/ketommy777/art/RaM-fic-art-840410759?ga_submit_new=10%3A1588549230
> 
> It's art for this fic. I kept trying to put it in the actual fic, but no matter what I tried, my computer just WOULDN'T let me, and It's been very frusterating. Thanks for reading!


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